Shattered
by Love2Love
Summary: It all started because Blaise wouldn't stop staring at Theodore. It continued because even after Theodore found out why, he had no bloody idea what to do, which somehow made it hurt more than not knowing. But how does it all end? Three part BZTN.
1. Lost and Found

**Author's Note: This story has taken I'm guessing, about two or so years from the time I starting writing to the time I am posting. The first line of the story popped into my head randomly with a basic idea, probably in grade 10 science, and the rest of the story sort of followed suit. I loved writing this story especially, it was probably one of the most enjoyable things I've done for . The best is yet to come, I think. :)**

**Rated T for language, mostly. This story will have three parts, all of which are already written. I have a favour to ask of all of you, which is that you could copy and paste certain parts of this story that you like the most (one or two lines, maybe?) and put it in your review. I'm just curious about which parts are the most effective. **

**The title of this story comes from the song Shattered by OAR, mostly because of a couple lines, not because of the actual music.**

**Special thanks to bonapuella, who agreed to edit the story and did so extremely well! She is a wonderful editor and I am so thankful to have received her help!**

**Disclaimer: If, after finishing this story you think I'm J.K Rowling I suggest you go back and read the Harry Potter books again. While you're at it, also, note the plot and sexualities.**

_Chapter One: Lost and Found_

The first time it happened was the beginning of fifth year. The term began in a way that made Theodore suspect nothing out of the ordinary would happen that year, a comforting sentiment for one who dislikes large quantities of change. As had been expected, Blaise's mother had him taken to school under guard, as she was worried for his safety. While _The Daily Prophet _did all they could to take away the credibility of Dumbledore and Potter, she retained the constant paranoia that the Dark Lord would come for her son, and so insisted on high security.

Theodore and Draco took the Hogwarts Express with the other Slytherins in their year while Blaise was escorted under tight security to the school, one of the few locations his mother accepted as protected enough for her liking. Mrs. Zabini hadn't deemed Hogsmeade safe and actually had people under disguise working there. But that wasn't important, because no one else actually knew about it until his grandmother's funeral ten years later and his entire family was completely pissed from firewhiskey. He'd expressed a moment's indignation over all her coy, 'I have my ways' explanations for knowing things she shouldn't have known before he'd passed out under a table.

After pushing around the appropriate amount of people to make them really feel at home, the Draco and Theodore started looking for Blaise. He wasn't to be found among the masses of students in black robes, and they had no choice but to get into a carriage and be taken up to the school. Theodore tried not to look at the Thestrals and ended up staring at the floor instead; they were annoying and quite frightening. He didn't need constant reminders of his mother's death and father's depression

Theodore shook his head and ran a hand through his dark brown hair. No need to dwell on such thoughts. It was the beginning of a new year. Maybe he and Draco would actually become friends, instead of just putting up with each other because of their mutual friendship with Blaise. And he was going to try harder in school as well, so his father would realize that he was still alive and maybe, just maybe, things would go back to normal.

It wasn't until they were joining the throng heading into the Great Hall that their friend slipped in between two people and settled into walking beside him. "Hey," Blaise said under his breath, glaring at the two Ravenclaws who were scowling at him.

"Hey," Theodore said back, twisting his head to get a good look at him. His mother hadn't been able to quite succeed in keeping him inside, then. His previously mocha colored skin was now more of a black coffee colour and his hair was a bit lighter. "I see you haven't grown."

Blaise looked up, bemused. "I see you have."

Theodore was tall and thin, with hair long enough to cover his hazel eyes if he wanted it to and didn't brush it away from his face. The bags under his eyes were attributes of staying up all night reading by wand light, or just his usual insomnia. His mind worked much faster at night than during the day, so he spent a large amount of time writing in the black notebook he'd gotten last Christmas from his cousin.

Had they been in the Slytherin Common Room he would have let out a bark of laughter and slung an arm around Blaise's shoulder. But since they were in public, he let the corners of his lips turn up slightly in response. Blaise would notice; he always noticed Theodore's small ways of communicating to him.

If he really thought about his aversion to obvious displays of emotion, it was probably not only because he didn't like showing too much emotion in front of other people, but also because he just wasn't good at it. Everything seemed embarrassing and difficult to do, unless he was alone with Blaise. In class he hardly spoke and, even in the seclusion of the Slytherin dormitories would much rather read than do any of the things the others boys did.

The three sat down at the Slytherin Table, Blaise across from him and Draco beside him. The Sorting Hat sang its song, Dumbledore made announcements and he listened to the insults Draco said in an undertone with a smile. When Umbridge stood up and made her long speech he placed his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands.

The seemingly endless stream of words coming from her mouth were no doubt supposed to be cleverly shrouded in misinterpretation, but he saw straight through that guise. It wasn't very well hidden; he understood what she was saying probably before she was even saying it, and if he could understand, he wouldn't be surprised if another quarter of the school could as well. The entire point of her twenty minute speech was to tell them that the ministry was taking a stand within Hogwarts, which was just fascinating.

Eventually, when he noticed that people were clapping, he looked up through his brown hair. To his surprise, he found Blaise looking right back. He had the glazed over sort of look he often got when he was thinking, but Theodore knew from experience that he was perfectly focused on that which was occurring around him. He obviously hadn't realized his friend could see him, as he continued to stare.

Theodore shifted a bit, flushing. Blaise's eyes flickered across his face, watching his lips for a noticeable moment before Theodore looked up completely, hoping Blaise would stop. He did; is face automatically twisted into a small smile and he rolled his eyes at the front.

Still blushing, he just nodded. Theodore wasn't used to people staring at him. Obviously he had friends, and they talked, and everything. But when they didn't _need _to stare and didn't have any reason for it, why should they? It was one thing to be concerned for his health, or something, but another entirely to look and then _pretend you hadn't_.

'Are you okay?' Blaise mouthed at him and he nodded, averting his eyes. The dark boy watched him for another minute or so and then began to dig into the food placed before them

After careful consideration that night while he was supposed to be sleeping, he figured that Blaise hadn't been embarrassed or even had a 'he-must-have-caught-me-watching' look because he simply hadn't realized what he was doing himself. It was probably just because they hadn't gotten together an awful lot over the break and he had a lot of stories he needed to share. Rolling over, Theodore decided that it wasn't important.

That was only the first time.

The first few weeks progressed slowly and Theodore became more and more engrossed in the regular pattern of Hogwarts. His writing book lay at the bottom of his trunk, only taken out for small breaks in his studying, or fits of extreme boredom. He wanted his father to be proud of him, and the only way that would happen would be if he succeeded in something. Ever since his mother…well, he'd been very depressed, hardly emerging from his room and occasionally calling Theodore the wrong name.

But still, he strived in the way a child strives because they want their parents to be proud of them. Sometimes its useless. But sometimes its not. Deep down, Theodore probably knew that getting Outstandings on all his OWLs would not bring the father he knew back. Only his mother could and, since she gone, there was no hope. But whenever his thoughts drifted unconsciously down that road he would grit his teeth, force those thoughts from his mind and manage to convince himself that marks could change his father's world.

So, while Theodore spent the weekends in the library, laboring over large books and writing notes until his hands hurt, Blaise and Draco hung around in the Common Room. Once, Blaise had joined Theodore in the library and had tried to convince him to go for a walk, but had failed miserably.

"Why not?" Blaise whined, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Blaise, show some maturity." Theodore said disapprovingly, not looking up from his book. "I said no."

"So?" He argued, "Why not? A short walk, twenty minutes. To refresh your brain."

"It doesn't need to be refreshed. I've been studying like this for awhile and take breaks every so often for two minutes. If I continue, by the end of the year I should be able to study for about five hours straight with a focused mind. There've been studies that show your brain can only take information in for half and hour before it shuts down, but you can train yourself to-"

"This is insane." Blaise said, looking upward. "Are you stupid? By the end of the year your life will be all this!" He gestured at the table, covered in books and parchment and a notebook. The one on top blazed '_The Advanced Guide to the Runes of Albertach' _and Blaise glared at it, as though it was responsible for his friend's behavior.

Theodore shrugged nonchalantly and turned the page. His friend huffed loudly. "Would you look at me?"

In a long, drawn out pause Theodore dragged his gaze from the text to look sardonically at Blaise. "You've just used up my two minutes break for the next half hour."

"You're impossible!" Exploded Blaise, getting to his feet. His hands clenched into fists and he glared down at his friend.

"Be quiet, will you!" Madame Pince shrieked in a soft voice, which was something only she had ever managed.

With one last glare at the other Slytherin, Blaise stalked from the library. He didn't even slam the door. Feeling guilty, Theodore lifted his eyes again. Blaise hadn't left, as he'd thought, but was standing with the door open, looking back at him. "Will you please come?"

_I shouldn't have chosen the desk near the door. Way less disruptions. _He sighed, "I've got to study."

This time, Blaise did slam the door.

And so it went, for a long time. Theodore was so caught up in his studies; in the constant self induced pressure to be better, study harder and do more that he hardly noticed the strain it was placing on his friendship with Blaise. The time between the dates in his writing-book-somehow-turned-journal began to lengthen, almost to the point of weeks before he scribbled down a sentence.

There were plenty of people who would simply acknowledge such a change in someone they knew and accept what was happening. But Blaise fought it. He refused to let Theodore waste away all his time, fearing that he was becoming more and more like Nott senior. They both had tendencies to shut themselves away from the rest of the world and not realize what they were doing. But he'd always thought Theodore was safe from losing himself completely.

Now it seemed Theodore was only concerned with one thing, and that was studying. His marks increased nicely, a fact which did not go unnoticed by the teachers. Professor Snape even went as far as to send an owl to Mr. Nott about it but there was no reply. A normal person might have thought that going from Exceeds Expectations in his classes to mostly Outstandings was phenomenal and, if his father didn't appreciate it, then so be it.

But to Theodore, it meant he had to work harder. The 'mostly' was a variable, and he could change it. He just needed to try more. There was still time he spent not studying, and he would just have to pick up the study pace a bit more.

He decided to skip the first Hogsmeade visit, much to his friends' chagrin.

"You can't skip Hogsmeade." Draco said, frowning in a way that could have made a grown man feel like he'd been caught doing something irresponsible.

"I will, though." Theodore said calmly, tracing the sentence he was reading with his finger slowly.

"Why?"

"I have to study." He said, in the same tone he'd been repeating incessantly for the past few months.

"Theodore," Draco said disapprovingly, "That's all you've done this entire year. Come on, it's Halloween. You should get some exercise and fresh air. Before the feast, yeah?"

Theodore's favourite part of the year was the Halloween feast, but it seemed only a small concern in his life now. "Mmm."

"Come on, let's go." Draco reached out to grab his arm.

"Stop it, Draco!" He snapped, yanking his arm back and glaring fiercely, suddenly very defensive. "I am _trying_ to make notes on chemical imbalances in transfiguration!"

Draco looked a bit shocked. "We're not covering that for another month."

"So? I should get ahead! The teachers won't give me review sheets in advance, so if I do this and get to know the theory of it, the time in class will be so much more efficient." He hissed, eyes narrowed with a slightly manic expression. Blaise was watching him, mouth hanging open.

"You have another month to get it, then." Draco said, jaw clenched. "Two hours out won't kill you."

"Just go," Theodore snarled, baring his teeth in an animalistic way. "I. Am. Busy."

"Theo, you're being ridiculous!" Blaise exploded, slamming a hand down on the table. "This is insanity! All you ever do is study! We've barely spoken to each other-"

"Such a tragedy." Theodore said icily. "If you wouldn't mind? This requires more concentration than either of you could possibly understand."

"You stupid-"

"Let's go, Blaise." Draco said with disgust, grabbing his arm. Blaise followed without comment, twisting so he didn't have to look at Theodore. The Slytherin could still hear his friend muttering vulgar expletives under his breath, but couldn't bring his eyes away from the text.

'_If, as has occurred three times through known history, an animal gets a sudden burst of a hormone, this can create an imbalance in the Transfiguration. Transfiguration spells all have certain miniscule movements in them that create a side effect known as 'Congelo Development,' or Freeze Development…'_

He could feel someone watching him. He'd always been observant, but this was a sort of prickling in his spine that alerted him to the fact that someone was taking special attention to look at him. It made him shift uncomfortably and dart glances every which way until he caught whoever it was. In this case, he glanced up through his brown bangs, which needed to be cut desperately, across the Common Room. It was Blaise, sitting on a couch near the fire with Draco, who wasn't looking in his direction. Blaise's eyes peeled away from him and he looked at Draco, nodded, and when the blonde's head ducked again they returned to Theodore.

He was blushing again, he felt it. The unfortunate thing was, when he blushed, you could _really_ see it. He had such pale skin that it scarred from scratches. Once he'd actually gotten a bruise because he'd been hugged so tightly by Blaise, the day after his mother died.

"Are you OK?" Blaise's voice sounded very near his head and he jumped, startled out of his musing.

"Yes, I'm fine." He said, picking up his book from where it had dropped from the floor.

"You look flushed. I thought maybe you have a fever." Blaise sat down beside him and touched his forehead with his hand.

"I'm fine," he said impatiently and shook the hand off, grimacing as he realized he had a headache. It was all nice and fine for Blaise to worry about him, but it was_ so_ unnecessary. He flicked through the pages and finally rested on page 345, ignoring the low throbbing his skull. Blaise was watching him with a strange expression, almost like disgust. "Really."

"No, I don't think you are." Blaise said, crossing his arms across his chest. "You didn't come to the feast on Halloween - and you love the feast. You spend all your free time writing like a maniac so it's a bloody miracle you don't have carpal tunnel syndrome yet, and it's not even in your writing book, it's for stupid classes! When were you last outside?"

"Care of Magical Creatures." He answered automatically and, because his minimal social skills told him he should add something on that, "The lesson with Umbridge and Thestrals. Disgusting things, really."

"That doesn't count."

"It was yesterday." He said, finally losing his temper. "Now goodbye. I'm going to the library, so I can actually _concentrate_."

He stood up and stormed away, seeing red. All his anger from their nagging was filling him and he was irrationally infuriated, a feeling that was amplified with each streak of pain through his head. When he got to the library he slammed his books down onto the table and furiously read, scribbling so fast ink went flying in all directions and spotted his skin with dark stains.

He paid no mind, pushing all his distraction over Blaise out of his mind as easily as he ignored his headache.

During Christmas he went home. It certainly wasn't by choice, but his father would expect it and he could show him his results for the winter exams. He had done very well. In Transfiguration he'd only gotten three questions wrong. He would just have to promise to do better, but that was OK. His father would understand.

Draco and Blaise both absently said they would be in touch and Crabbe and Goyle stared at him blankly at the train station. It hadn't bothered him too much, because he'd been so deeply immersed in the schedule for their next month of Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.

"Bye." He muttered, dragging his bags out of Platform 9¾. There was a deserted road just around the corner where he would call up the Knight Bus to take him to his house.

The ride took quite awhile and he felt his stomach churn unpleasantly more than once. It was so rough and he could feel the lunch he'd had before they'd left reacting grossly with the swaying, sharp and tight motions of the bus…_Stop it. _He shook his head and closed his eyes, trying to picture himself elsewhere. Eventually, he ended up reciting the ten laws of Charms work and what was deemed appropriate by the Wizengamot concerning workspace Charms hazards. He then discovered that it was a great time to study, and used the remainder of the ride going over his homework in his mind.

The second his address was called he stumbled from the bus, gulping fresh air and leaning on his trunk. For a moment he almost expected his father to be waiting down the long, winding driveway up to their manor, like he used to. But he wasn't, so he trudged on alone.

"Hello? Father?" He called once inside the dark house. Nott Senior didn't like lights anymore, so the House Elves moved in darkness during the year. When Theodore came home from school, he was expected to do the same.

"Master Nott is being home from Hogwarts?" With a _crack_, Knotty –cleverly named by Theodore himself- appeared before him. "Knotty is taking Master's trunk and coat."

He cast the elf one disparaging look of disgust and climbed the staircase to the second floor, clutching his exam results. He'd especially asked the teachers if he could receive his early. After some nagging, they'd relented, if only to stop his ceaseless questioning. "Father?"

For a moment he hesitated outside his father's door, hand on the doorknob, frozen with indecision. _This is the man I've been slaving for. _He thought, _he should know how I've done. I did it for him._

"Hello, father." He said softly, stepping into the dark room. The same inky blackness he'd always feared would take him over now surrounded him. The only sliver of light came from the partially open door, which saved him from complete panic.

"Theodore?" Came a gravelly voice from the bed. It was a different direction than it had been in the summer, which told him he'd moved since then. Then was a good sign. "Why are you here, Theodore?"

"It's the Christmas holidays." He said quietly, though no doubt he would be asked to speak up. It was easier to be scolded when he couldn't see the weak, bitter man who'd used to be a sign of strength and trust from his childhood years. Instead there was only thick black darkness, an exact replica of the space his father occupied in his heart. "I sent you a letter."

"I received no letter!"

"Father-"

"Don't mock me! '_Father_'! Do you think I'm stupid!" Even in the raspy, frail voice that assaulted him he could hear outrage.

With a sinking feeling, Theodore realized that he had been mistaken for his grandfather. "It's me; it's Theodore. Your son."

"Hmmpph. OK, sure. I'll go along with this game, then. Have you got results? Marks? Scores? Do you have a job?" The voice demanded, and by then Theodore had no desire to turn on the lights and see the man who spoke. He didn't want to see the variation in the psychical features of the stranger he knew was before him.

"I'm still at Hogwarts. I have my exam-"

"Well?"

"All O's except-"

"_Except_? Well, I supposed you can't do well in _everything_. Not an academic, my son." He muttered, as though he didn't think his son could hear him. His words were a babble of incomprehension and his mind constantly changed Theodore's identity without realizing it. "Not like me. Do you remember, Father, the marks _I_ had?"

"Yeah." The brunette swallowed the lump in his throat, letting the sheet fall to the floor. The House Elves would come and fetch it later, and probably burn it. For a moment, Theodore wondered himself what it would like to be incinerated and fall away in ashes. "Yeah, I remember."

After that, nothing else really made sense except to study harder. If perfect in everything was what it took, he would do it. If he thought reasonably, he would have known that just because Mr. Nott had found the fault in the exceptions to the O's (History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts) did not mean fixing those mistakes would make it better.

His friends became used to his lack of presence, and Blaise didn't always snap at him when he came down to breakfast with dark bags under his eyes anymore, or fell asleep reading the paper. He could still carry conversation, and he ate, and he didn't always stay up, but in his waking hours he did try to learn. _Only two more O's_ became his mantra. Of course, he still had to maintain his other good grades, so it wasn't smooth flying from then on.

Late one night Theodore stretched, moving out of his hunched position with relief and grimacing as his back cracked in several places. He rubbed his temples, by now used to the feeling of someone's eyes on him. It did nothing to look up anymore, as Blaise seemed completely unaware that he was staring at Theodore with anything less than hostility. Or staring at all.

"Only two more." He muttered, forcing his eyes to read the words on the page before him. They blurred before his vision. He was sitting on his four poster bed while the others changed into their pajamas. "Shit." He'd accidentally smeared ink onto one eye. Furiously he wiped it onto his robes.

"Theodore-"

"_What!" _He looked up sharply into Blaise's eyes.

"I just thought I'd let you know that its 11:30. We should probably go to bed."

"'We?'" He quoted coolly. "I didn't realize 'we' went to bed together."

"I'm trying to get you to sleep!" Blaise snarled defensively, his face darkening slightly and his hands clenching.

"I do sleep." He rubbed his eyes again, smearing the ink around comically. "If you weren't sleeping at the same time, you'd see this fact for what it is. The truth."

"Theo, I'm worried about you. Your father-"

"Is fine and healthy." He broke in, "And he's encouraging me to be great."

"And when did he tell you this? Over your kind and loving Christmas celebrations?" Blaise asked sarcastically, arching an eyebrow smugly. In truth, Theodore been utterly alone on Christmas, and so he stole some of his father's alcohol and gotten drunk, deciding this was his father's present. He didn't _need_ a gift from his father to know that he cared about him, but wouldn't it make sense that the elder wouldn't leave his room and his Firewhiskey was conveniently unguarded? Maybe he'd _wanted_ Theodore to have it.

It was beside the fact that his father hadn't gotten out of bed the entire holiday, much less said more than those initial words to him.

"You know what?" He stood up, anger swelling inside him. "You know what? You don't know anything about my family, or my holiday."

"Maybe because you didn't write at all! I wrote you, even though Draco told me it was pointless because you'd be too busy-"

"Oh, Draco's your new best friend?" He said mockingly, but when the other male didn't deny the accusation he felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The instinctive urge to hurt Blaise swelled up inside him and his next words tumbled out of their own accord. "Fine, well, it's not just my father you don't know! You don't even know who your _own_ fatheris!"

Blaise flinched away from him, but as Theodore continued nothing showed his feelings of betrayal and hurt – except his eyes, which Theodore could plainly see. But he couldn't stop.

"Maybe you should try actually getting a family of your own besides your psycho mother and non-existent father! So don't go judging mine! We're great! In fact, we're bloody amazing. Not that you would know, since the only thing you care about is yourself!"

"Your father doesn't give a flying fuck about you!" Blaise shouted loudly, his arms flailing in an attempt to elaborate wordlessly. "You can study all you want - he won't start caring about you! He doesn't like you! So you can keep on striving to do better in school, but once you run out of ways to make him try and love you, you'll realize it's a lost cause! He only ever cared about your mother!"

He couldn't think of anything to say. His brain was at a complete loss. To his absolute horror, his eyes began to fill with tears and he stood up, letting all his books fall to the floor. Snatching his bag off the ground he stuffed them in, pages falling out as he stretched the spines and ripped the binding in his haste, grabbing everything and turning. "I'm going to- to – yeah. See you."

"Theo-"

"_Don't_ call me Theo." He bit out, rubbing frantically at his overflowing eyes. It must have been the stupid ink. He staggered out of the dormitory and down to the Common Room. OWLs were in three months. Three months! He had no time for this. Blaise could go burn in hell for all he cared.

After arranging himself in the corner, he opened his book and smoothed over his crumpled notes.

'_Charms, in itself, is a concept known as…Charms, in itself, is a concept known as the completion of…Charms, in itself, is a concept know as the completion of an irregular form of…Charms, in itself, is a…'_

His head dropped to his shoulder and he slept. When he woke the next morning, the pages were bumpy, which he explained away by saying drool, even though the wrinkles were near the top of the page, by his eyes.

Ignoring Blaise wasn't as hard as he thought. The fact that the subject of his determined ignorance didn't seem all too eager to talk to him either held little importance. Theodore had become so accustomed to having Blaise watch him that he could pretty much detect when he was looking at him, even if he didn't look up. If the other boy wouldn't look away, he would get up and leave.

It didn't matter what Blaise said. His father loved him, and would be proud of him, and didn't only love his mother. He was fine; he wasn't depressed, he was just upset. But when he realized that he still had Theodore, his father would appreciate his efforts, and things would go back to normal.

Blaise was just jealous. He didn't know who his father was, and his mother would never tell him anything about him. In fact, sometimes Theodore wondered nastily if he wasn't just some sort of mutant that didn't have parental connections. The waves of guilt that washed over him just caused him to be more angry and, when he considered making up with him, his thoughts would return to the original cause of his fury and he would stop.

It seemed that all his mental determination had to give some result – and he got it in the form of a letter. He was surprised to receive it, as he couldn't think of anyone who would actually want to talk to him that was out of Hogwarts. Actually, when he really thought about it, he couldn't come up with anyone who would want to talk to him _period_. When he saw that it was from his father and the writing was legible he sucked in a deep breath, drawing the attention of surrounding Slytherins.

_Theodore,_

_I know that my previous attention to you has been lacking, but I assume you've been doing a good job of keeping things together. A recent cause has been developed in which I find myself…eager to participate in. It would be best if you did not return home for any remaining holidays during the school year; I am busy._

_Keep well._

This could only mean one thing. The Dark Lord. That, or his father had joined some other cult. That was unlikely, though. His father had unswerving loyalty to the man – or whatever it was that he was supposed to be – so of _course_ if he was able, he would go directly to him.

It actually hurt a bit to read. After all of Theodore's attempts to make the man see reason, it was the madman who had probably gotten the woman he loved killed in the first place to make him come back. He didn't seem to be completely back, though. OWLs were in one week, so there were no more holidays left in the year. Unless he meant the summer, but where could he go? Certainly not to his friends' houses, like he might have been able to do before he alienated them all.

_Who cares, though? Really, we've only got about two years left here, and then we'll all go our separate paths. _He thought, ignoring the painful feeling that it induced. All thoughts of friendship led to one person, and they hardly spoke anymore. He and Blaise used to be inseparable, but now…It didn't matter.

He wasn't psychotic, as he'd heard Draco talking to Blaise about. There was nothing _wrong _with striving for excellence in academic performance. Some people couldn't understand that, because their minds just didn't function that way. To him, if you couldn't do something and wanted to, you tried harder, got better and succeeded. If someone you cared about happened to be the cause of that, all the better, because you weren't doing it for selfish reasons.

He took a bite of toast, reading the note again. _Keep well. _Not the best thing to say, _be_ well might be better, but the sentiment was there. _Keep well. _He found himself staring at those two words, as though the entire world was hidden somewhere in their letters – a hidden meaning, of sort. Maybe a more passionate message, like…

He smiled and looked upward, reaching for pumpkin juice and accidentally caught Blaise's eye. The other Slytherin immediately raised his eyebrows in a defensive 'what?' kind of way. His face held no sign that he'd been glazed over, so maybe he'd decided there was nothing interesting about Theodore after all. The idea disappointed him, but by now he was so good at repressing emotions he barely felt it before it was locked away in the back of his mind.

"Nothing." He muttered, pulling a Defense book from his bag. He still had a lot to shape up in that department, but couldn't very well study the practical side of it during breakfast. He propped it up against the pumpkin juice and his eyes blurred as he read the text.

Draco sighed loudly, quite past exasperation by that time. "This is so unhealthy."

Theodore immediately went defensive, until he realized that Draco was referring to where the Gryffindors sat at their table. Potter was staring into his coffee cup, and Granger and Weasley appeared to be arguing.

"Having such filth in here! Potter's treated like he's some sort of God. I'll bet he kills everyone because he goes so insane." Draco said in a low, angry voice.

"I've always wanted to die at the hands of Potter." Blaise said sarcastically, "Because at least it will be quick and easy. I doubt even his insanity could make him torture anyone. _Such_ an honour."

"He'd probably be a lot less crazy if you stopped being such an arse to him." Theodore said and then froze. Had he just said that? Out _loud_?

"When did you become a Potter lover?" Draco asked snidely.

"Er…" He looked at Blaise, who quickly hid the small expression of amusement he had with one of nonchalance.

So he did what he'd always done; picked up his bag and fled.

When Potter collapsed during History of Magic, he'd never imagined that the consequences of what had happened would be so drastic. Sure, it was never very pleasant when one of your classmates dropped, screaming and thrashing to the floor, and was then escorted from the exam, but it was Potter. Strange things happening were a side effect of knowing him, or being around him. However, when Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle and Draco were summoned by Filch – they'd joined Umbridge's stupid squad - he had known something funny was going on.

When they trooped back up two hours later, looking very angry, he'd wanted to know what was wrong. But who could he ask? He had no friends anymore, doubtless Blaise and Draco would have a good laugh over his expense for being so out of it.

And he had another thought occupying his mind. OWLs were officially over, so there was no more studying to do. He felt useless. Sort of like his drive in life had dissipated, but he didn't want to die. The point of his life, as it had been for the past school year, was now gone. So he needed a new one. Perhaps he would talk to his father about it.

The next morning, as owls streamed through the roof, he looked up hopefully. His father hadn't owled him again, but that was apt to change, surely. Now that he'd regained some of his former self – he wasn't sure how much, but he would figure that out after school ended – he would want to catch up with Theodore. They would have a lot of talking to do.

_There are a lot of owls today…_He thought, just as a large group of them broke off from the horde and began to go straight for the Slytherins. Irrational fear pooled inside him. The only reason so many owls could possibly be targeting their table would be if, for some reason, a large group of things concerning them had happened. Draco had a letter dropped onto his lap and he saw that the Malfoy opened it with shaking fingers, trying not to seem too anxious.

When Draco sucked in a large gasp, he abandoned the pretense of watching his food – no owl had come for him – just as Blaise reached across the table and rested a hand on his friend's arm. "Draco? What is it?"

The blonde looked up, panic evident in his eyes. "It's from Mother. Father…Father has been arrested."

"What? How?" Blaise asked, voice rising in distress for his friend. Small noises of shock and horror traveled up and down the table as the sound of ripping seals quieted. Crabbe and Goyle both looked at each other with wide eyes, similar letters in their hands.

"Last night." Draco whispered, still staring at the words on the parchment. "Remember? I told you they'd had something going which would turn the table in our favor…I didn't know it was so bad…Potter must have…Potter left, right? He did it…He's..." Draco trailed off and Theodore sat there, horrified.

'_A recent cause has been developed in which I find myself…eager to participate in.'_

This was it. This was the cause. And if numerous Slytherins up and down the tables were getting letters from their parents that meant the group itself had been caught. He had no one to tell him the news, no one left in his family to send the news along…

"No." He gasped out, jolting to his feet, voice suddenly raspy. After everything he'd done; all the work; all the effort, his father had gotten arrested before he could show him his marks. Or his OWLs. Before they could try and repair their relationship and be a family again.

All his hopes.

Gone.

Blaise turned to him, his expression of concern molding into one of alarm. "Theodore?"

He spoke as though he didn't recognize the person in front of him, which Theodore realized he probably didn't. Not compared to the work obsessed psycho he'd been the past few months. It was like waking up after a long, boring dream. As though the feeling he'd gotten from hearing the news – a million needles injecting ice cold poison into him everywhere – had made him see reality.

He left quickly, feeling no shame in the fact that running away always worked. He didn't stumble, for which he was grateful, because it is quite hard to run through the corridors while your eyes are all blurry from…perspiration.

He got through the dungeons all right, up the stairs to his dorm and, with a loud noise of relief and distress, threw himself into the bathroom, bolting the door closed. Gasping from exertion and pain he clenched both sides of the sink, leaning over it and letting out strangled sobs.

This wasn't happening. His only relation left in Britain were his grandparents, who were much too old to have been bothered by the Dark Lord – which was good, seeing as they didn't put much stock in his ideals – and spent all day sitting on a couch, arguing constantly about everything. His only other relatives – his aunt, uncle and their two sons – lived in Alaska.

His family was gone. He had no siblings, his mother was dead and his father… Arrested. After everything Theodore had done for him, he'd gone out with Death Eaters and let himself get caught. There'd been nothing holding him back – nothing to make him cautious. Not his son. He didn't care about his son. He didn't_ have_ a son.

_He doesn't care about you. He never has. Blaise was right. He was completely right. The only reason he hasn't kicked you out is because he hardly ever remembers you exist.._

"Theo?" Someone knocked on the door and he jumped away from the sick, slamming into one of the cubicles. "Theo, I know you're in here."

He didn't say anything, his heart pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with running. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. It felt like his emotions were streaming rapidly through his body, as fast as his heart was pumping blood through his veins.

"Theo? Please, open the door." Blaise said softly, so he could hardly hear the words.

He was torn. There was Blaise; a chance to reclaim their friendship, on the other side of the door. And there was solitude; a way to endure the pain alone and never let anyone see him vulnerable. And, further away, denial. The last resort. To forget and never have to acknowledge the ruins of his life.

Theodore would always remember staring at that door for a very long time, wishing the doorknob would turn and open on its own accord so he didn't have choose what course his life would take, and he would see Blaise and they would be friends again, like nothing had ever separated them.

He turned on the water of the shower. Even though he told himself not to strain his hearing, he could still hear the soft sigh of Blaise's breath released in a puff from his lips, and the footsteps as he left.

He was alone again. Just as he'd always been.

Just as he'd always hated.

The train let out a sharp whistle and the last few students lingering quickly hopped on. In another minute it began to move and Theodore watched Hogwarts fade into the distance. _How poetic. _He thought bitterly. _Fading into the distance as fast as I lost my life to fucking books. As fast and as far away as my friends are. _

He was going to live with his grandparents until he was seventeen. Because his birthday was in October, he had only to spend this one summer with them and then he could buy his own house, or live in the one he'd had before his father was arrested, legally.

It was hard. Watching Hogwarts fade away and realizing that he had to start all his relationships from scratch, because at the moment he really had none. His grandparents hadn't seen him in three years, and Draco still hadn't forgiven him for being such an arse. When he did say something, Blaise listened attentively, trying to respond normally, but it was hard when you felt like strangers. There was a thin, glass barrier between them. He felt like as soon as they broke it, they could regain themselves again. But he didn't know how.

Which was why he was sitting alone, in his own compartment on the train while people sat, chatting away happily with their friends. They were all probably wondering about their summer plans, or where their family would vacation. _At least you have a family. _He wanted to scream to everyone; to no one, even though when his grandparents had asked if he'd wanted to travel he'd adamantly said no.

So he settled back in his seat and began to drown himself in self pity and regret. That was what he was doing when Blaise found him.

"Hey," he said, slipping into the compartment. This was actually quite a surprise for Theodore, who had thought Blaise's mother was having him escorted back to his mansion.

"Hi." He looked up, startled, from staring out the window. Books held no appeal – at first it was just school books, until he'd looked down in his trunk and remembered something Blaise had said to him. _'"This is insane." Blaise said, looking upward. "Are you stupid? By the end of the year your life will be all this!" He gestured at the table, covered in books and parchment and a notebook.'_

And he'd realized that, in fact, that had become his life. This realization was much too unnerving, so he'd been put off any form of literature for the present.

"How're you doing?" Blaise asked, closing the door and sitting on the seat across from him.

He shrugged, avoiding Blaise's captivating eyes and looked back out the window. "Fine, I guess. You?"

"Good…I'm good." Blaise said, nodding with the words and he cringed inwardly at how formal they were. "So...Listen, where are you staying this summer?"

He kept his eyes carefully glued to the scenery whipping by. "My grandparents. Next summer I'll move back into my old house, or if I can I'll get my own house. I'd rather not stay there..."

"Yeah, I didn't think you would." Blaise responded, his voice making Theodore turn his head, just to see his expression. He looked a bit upset and he was staring at Theodore, but not in the ways he'd been caught over the year. Not that he'd known he'd been caught, of course.

"Hm." He said, trying to make it sound like he was bored and there wasn't a part of him aching for Blaise to just start talking to him like they'd used to. Like friends, which didn't actually apply to them anymore but he so wanted to...

"Theo?" Blaise asked quietly, "Are you okay? I know I said those things, but I was really pissed, you know how I get..."

"I'm fine." He said, watching the light from the sun reflect off the window's surface.

It had been so long since he'd been friends with Blaise – though a part of his mind still retained the word for them – so he'd almost misplaced all this quirks, pet peeves and his temper. He would never forget something about the dark male; every bit of his personality was ingrained in his brain, but his significant absence had made it a bit painful to dwell on so he'd shoved all the things that made Blaise who he was into the back of his mind.

"No, you're not fine, you complete idiot. I_ know _you! Why can't you just _answer_ me?"

"Really, do you?" Theodore asked sarcastically, "Because the last time we had a real conversation was when? Remind me, will you? What makes you think over the past year I haven't changed drastically?"

"Because," Blaise responded, his confidence wavering, "I know you! I know how you are, and how you act, and your stupid father-"

"Don't insult my father!" He shouted, standing. "Why are you even in here?"

"Because you're my friend!"

"No, I _was _your friend." He corrected, folding his arms across his face and glaring in a somewhat defensive way. "Before we stopped talking."

"Theodore, I thought it was just a-a _thing _that you needed some space for."

"All year?" He asked cynically, his eyes wandering the length of the compartment disinterestedly. He didn't know how to stop acting this way and start acting like a friend.

"I don't want to- will you look at me? You always just stare at other things when I'm talking!"

He looked up instinctively, slightly afraid. It was inevitable that looking at Blaise would result in looking into his eyes, the eyes that magnified his emotions by massive proportions. The same eyes that were filled with tears, a fact that made him jolt not only physically but mentally as well.

"I don't want to lose you over this." Blaise whispered and Theodore's own eyes began to fill. "I-Merlin, I love you Theo. You're my best friend."

"Even more than Draco?" He asked pathetically, feeling stupid and ashamed and childish, but not enough to take back the question.

"Yes." Blaise answered, and he didn't laugh, as Theodore thought he might.

There are times in life when people feel intense, irreversible gravitational pulls. Usually when they jump. But, for some reason, Theodore found himself nearly tripping in his haste to get to Blaise – three steps seemed like miles – as though it wasn't gravity holding him to the earth anymore, but Blaise himself.

"I'm sorry." Theodore murmured into Blaise's neck as they embraced, and the other male hugged him back tightly, teardrops clinging to his long, dark eyelashes. He could feel his friend's heartbeat, banging quickly against his own and without meaning to he inhaled the wonderful scent clinging to the other body. Blaise's deep breaths – even after the initial hitch when they'd hugged – blew across his ear.

"Me too." He replied, and it was quite awhile before they were finally able to pull away.

"Back to Hogwarts tomorrow." Blaise said quietly. They were lying beside a small pond at his manor, beneath the shade of a tall willow tree. He'd spent more time with Blaise at his house than at his own. Well, his grandparents', really. It still didn't feel like home.

"Yeah…It won't be too bad. I'm sort of looking forward to it." He said absently, fingers tracing patterns in the grass.

"Me too. Less free time, though." Blaise replied, propping himself up on his elbow. "Promise me something?"

"Sure." He mirrored the movement.

"Promise me you won't become obsessed with books again."

A smile slid easily onto his lips. How strange it was, to think that just a few months with Blaise as his best friend again could make him change so drastically. "Sure."

"Good." The dark-skinned boy grinned, "I might've burned them, if you went crazy on me again."

"You wouldn't." He laid back down, staring up at the clouds. "I would hurt you."

"I'd like to see you try."

Theodore frowned, bemused at his friend's laughter. "I could beat you up."

"Sure." Blaise waved a hand in the air absently.

He was actually a bit concerned about that new development. It was all nice and fine to joke about who would win, but the actual disbelief and offhand way Blaise was addressing the issue worried him.

"Do I _seem_ weak, to you?" he asked, trying to appear nonchalant. Some things you just can't admit to your fit best friend, like the major blow it would be to your ego to find out that you were unmanly.

"Hm? No, no of course not." Blaise said, waving his hand again in an incredibly false way.

"Seriously, tell me the truth." he said somewhat sulkily, ducking so his bangs covered his forehead and dipped his eyes in shadows.

"Theodore," Blaise was laughing. "You're blowing this so out of proportion. You have muscle." To prove his point he reached out and patted Theodore's bicep, which, quite frankly, was not at all muscled.

He shrugged, sighing, and tugged his arm away. He wasn't sure he liked Blaise touching him. It sent sharp feelings to his abdomen, and that was definitely not normal.

"It's not like it matters much, anyway." Blaise said in a would-be consoling way, had his much wounded pride not been on the line. You _knew _it was bad when they tried to direct the conversation to a place where they could list all your good attributes. The worst part was that Theodore wasn't sure he actually had any. "There are plenty of things that make you cool."

"Humour me." he said dryly, staring up into the sky again. It was much easier than looking at his best friend.

There was a long silence on the other end of the conversation. With a self-pitying inner sigh he opened his mouth to somehow tactfully divert the conversation when Blaise murmured, "Give me a moment," in a soft voice.

He nodded and watched the clouds lazily skimming the blue sky. The lack of speech continued on and, in curiosity, he glanced over at Blaise and was more than a little embarrassed to see him looking – _gazing _- back.

The brunette was propped on his elbows and his hair was fluttering softly in the breeze. His lips were parted ever so slightly. His eyes, the most interesting bit, were glazed over, and yet still dancing in a beautiful, enchanted way.

As their eyes met something surprising happened. Theodore had been all ready to shuffle awkwardly and wait for his friend to recall his senses, used to his staring, despite the strange change this new gaze was. But when their eyes locked Blaise's entire face darkened with a flush and he averted his eyes, carefully tilting his head so that his hair covered some of his embarrassment, exactly the way Theodore had done moments before.

Unsure of what this meant, other than the fact that Blaise must now be aware that he spent abnormal amounts of time with his eyes focused on Theodore's, he tried to lighten up the suddenly heavy atmosphere. "Don't strain yourself."

"There are lots of good thing about you." Blaise said, sounding a bit flustered. "Don't be an idiot."

He opened his mouth to laugh but Blaise continued on. "You've got a great sense of humor. Makes me laugh all the time. You're intelligent, and if I ever need anyone to help me with academic work, I'd ask you first. You're a good friend; the best. I can count on you for anything."

'_You're pretty ugly, which means I never have to worry about you being snapped up by some girl who will take up all your time'. _Theodore added silently, glumly acknowledging that the words were completely true. _No doubt he's trying to refrain from saying _something_ of that sort._

Had Blaise's expression not changed, he would have sworn the other male had heard his words, or that he'd accidentally said them aloud. "You're attractive, I think. Your eyes are such a nice color…Hazel. Your hair is soft…You're a good height…Not too tall or anything. And…And you're…"

Theodore shifted a bit uncomfortably. The tone of Blaise's voice sounded off, like…Like he was only half there, or his mind was somewhere completely different, the way Theodore sometimes got when he visualized the Halloween feast hours before it began. And he was completely embarrassed that Blaise was thinking about _him_. What else? He was definitely talking about him.

And he felt a sort of fear, the kind that makes you desperate to get away from something that in itself wasn't altogether frightening, but the idea of what could come next was enough to terrify you.

"Do you want some lunch?" He asked, getting to his feet and wiping his sweaty hands on his khakis.

"Sure…" Blaise got up, jammed his hands into his pockets and followed him, brow furrowed for the rest of the day.

He may not have realized it at the time, but years later when he looked back on their last years at Hogwarts, he would realize the importance of that moment, and the denial he'd plunged himself into following the incident, to prevent himself from acknowledging what he couldn't bring himself to see.

**Author's Note: Thanks for reading, please review!**


	2. Decisions

**Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed, and I appreciated it! If you could, again, copy and paste your favorite lines into your reviews, that would be wonderful! :) This chapter also sort of explains how the song/title fits in with the story, a bit.**

**Endless amounts of gratitude to ****bonapuella, who edited this beast of a story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in this story, except for the idea. **

Part Two: Decisions

Blaise and Draco were talking.

It wasn't that they didn't talk; they did. Theodore discovered that startling fact when he'd walked in on one of their conversations and they'd both fallen silent. They were friends. Good friends, by the looks of it. But they were having a very _intense_ talk, both persons leaning in seriously, hands waving in agitation, mouths moving quickly to express their words and eyes glittering. In fact, there was some hair raking on Blaise's part, giving him a casually messy look.

Theodore was sitting by the fire. He'd walked into the Common Room and seen Draco and Blaise lounging in a corner, which the blonde never did unless it was about something secretive. He'd pretended to want to get an early start on his homework and didn't join them, but his mind ended up wandering over to the two every chance it got.

He traced the letters in the books title, watching the firelight flicker off the glossy cover. It was mesmerizing, yet his attention continually led his eyes to his friends. He wasn't quite sure if friend was the right word for Draco. Draco hadn't seemed to forgive him for becoming so antisocial the previous year. Harry Potter rejected his friendship and six years later he still hated him with a passion, so Theodore had just given up on trying to smooth over the rut. He would get over it eventually.

Blaise stood up and he tried to make it look like he hadn't been looking. The darker male walked straight by him and left. Theodore looked over at Draco in suspicion, only to find the blond looking at him as well. Draco sighed, before making his way over to him and sat down.

"How was your summer?" The young Malfoy asked in a resigned voice.

He made a few good responses, asked the same and then carried the conversation on to their classes this year. After he'd decided he'd spent a substantial amount of time talking, so as not to offend Draco once more, he stood up, muttered something about lack of sleep and walked over to the stairs leading up to the boys' dormitory. He glanced back quickly, just in case Blaise walked in, and then went upstairs.

Several minutes later, while he was lying on his bed staring up into the canopy, he wondered why he hadn't been included in their discussion. He was trying to make up for the previous year, he really was. Draco seemed quite insulted by his behavior even now, but he seemed to be making an effort to reconcile, if their recent conversation was any indication.

How long he laid there he wasn't sure, it could have been hours, but he was still completely awake when someone opened the door and slipped in. They moved quietly and there was a small shuffling by the bed beside his. "Blaise?" He opened his hangings.

"Oh! I thought you were sleeping." Blaise said in a strange voice, eyes flickering to the bathroom door. "I was just going to go to bed." He had his pajamas in hand and his robes had been dropped into his trunk.

"What's with you and Draco?" He asked, a bit more bluntly than he would have liked.

"What do you mean?" Blaise sounded nonchalant and uncaring, turning his back to his friend as he rummaged through his trunk.

"You looked like you were talking about something pretty important." Theodore said, shrugging and straightening out the blankets covering his lower half.

"Oh, tonight? That was nothing." He replied and then sighed a bit loudly. "Well, I'm off. Drake told me you're tired. If I were you, I'd try a sleeping charm."

_Drake. _If anyone else called Draco that, they'd be dead in seconds. Apparently he didn't mind if Blaise said it, though, something Theodore decided with bitter annoyance.

"Sure, thanks." He said, a bit confused, and leaned back down. The door to the adjoining bathroom clicked shut and he rolled over, grabbed his wand from the table beside his bed and cast a light sleeping charm on himself. It took approximately five seconds to take action, and so when Blaise opened the door again, face full of indecision, he was already too fast asleep to hear the soft, "Theo?" and see the hurt on his best friend's face as he thought he was being ignored.

Draco grinned mischievously from behind a nearby oak tree. Theodore saw him, but didn't mention it to Blaise, who was complaining about how unfair the 'A' he'd gotten was, when Weasley got an 'E' on _his _Transfiguration paper.

He watched Blaise blow on his gloved hands as Draco took out his wand. Somewhat warily, he made sure that Draco didn't look like he was angry, and then took a small step backwards. Blaise looked quizzically at him, but he merely shrugged.

Quite suddenly, a gust of wind blew by and a pile of leaves flew into Blaise's face. Theodore burst into laughter as his friend spluttered, spat a few out and began to shake them off him. Draco stepped out from behind the tree and strolled casually over, carefully stowing his wand in his pocket. "Hello."

"Hi," Blaise said, muttering, 'Damn wind,' and trying to detach several leaves from his back. Theodore laughed at him and the other Slytherin glared at him. "Oh, shut up."

Theodore continued to laugh, but helped him brush the leaves from his back. He didn't notice when his friend stiffened, as he was still chuckling to himself. One particularly determined leaf was on his collar, so he took off his glove and swept it off with his bare fingers, grazing the dark skin on his friend's neck, just below the earlobe.

Blaise shuddered and Theodore's laughter subsided. "Are you cold?"

"Er, no." Blaise said, turning his face away. He cleared his throat and licked his lips.

"Should we go back inside?" He asked, concerned. It was a bit cold out for a clear October day.

"I _said_ I'm fine." Blaise snapped at him, looking away the moment his eyes made contact with Theo's face.

"Okay, sorry," he muttered, pulling his glove back on.

Draco watched them, frowning. After a moment of silence, he sighed. "Let's go, you wankers. I'm cold."

Theodore went to exchange exasperated looks with Blaise, but found the other male carefully avoiding his eyes. His brow furrowed in confusion and he fell into step on Draco's other side. Oblivious to the tension between them, Draco talked on and on about Quidditch, the newest set of robes his mother had sent him and his annoyance over Pansy's clingy behavior.

By the time he'd moved on to how frustrating it was to have Granger in almost every class, they'd reached the dungeon and neither Theodore nor Blaise had spoken. He tried to catch Blaise's eye as they climbed the stairs to their dormitory, but he seemed transfixed with the floor. At last he began to strip off his layers – a Slytherin scarf, his heavier robes, his sweater – and he kicked off his shoes, before flopping onto the bed before him.

"Lazy," Draco muttered. "What time did you get up today? Two hours ago?"

Theodore lifted his pillow from under his head and chucked it in the direction he'd heard Draco. "Ponce."

"Now, now. Is it really necessary to start unprovoked attacks?" Draco asked and Theo let out a low groan of exasperation, before propping himself up on his elbows to see what he was talking about.

"Oh. Sorry Blaise." He laughed again as he realized who he'd hit instead. Everything seemed brighter that day and he kept laughing at such small things. It felt nice to experience carefree moments, as if the past year hadn't formed a bit of a glass wall between them.

"Mm. Okay." Blaise said, throwing the pillow back to him. It landed at the foot of his bed. Slightly robotically, Blaise turned and walked downstairs without another word.

"What's wrong with him?" Theodore asked, confused for the second time in the hour.

Draco surveyed him. "You are truly stupid."

"Er…Thanks." He said, unsure of where this was coming from. The blond stood up and walked downstairs, leaving Theodore to himself. With a loud sigh he leaned back on his bed ad stared up at the ceiling.

_I don't understand them._

He sighed again.

It was late November when the course for _it_ was set to play, the point of no return in their unexplained exchanges, the trigger for events so strong they were mind blowing. He would never have expected it to happen that way, though of course he never expected it to happen in the first place.

Classes had just ended and they'd decided to grab a quick dinner and then savor some of the last moments they'd have without snow. Theodore threw his scarf over his shoulder, pocketed his gloves and carried his thickest coat down with him.

"Ready, then?" Blaise asked and he nodded. Together they made their way down to the Great Hall. "I hope it's not too cold out, yet."

He shrugged, "I like the cold."

"I know." His friend grinned, "I figured that out in our third year, when I thought Sirius Black had gotten you, but all _you_ wanted was to sit outside for a bit. You're lucky the Dementors didn't get you."

He shuddered, "At least if they did, I wouldn't remember."

"_I_ would have to remember, though." Blaise said, frowning. "How would you feel if you found me out on the grounds with my soul sucked out?"

"I'd rather not think about it." Theodore replied, his stomach twisting unpleasantly as he imagined stumbling across his friend's body outside. There would probably still be Dementors, swirling around, and Blaise's coffee colored skin, pale…He shuddered again.

"Yeah…" They walked in silence until they reached the Slytherin Table. Theodore thought of how often silence crept into their conversations and was slightly perturbed. The night before they'd been studying Defense Against the Dark Arts and joking around a bit, when their laughter faded away and neither had spoken for awhile. He didn't understand why, when they used to talk about anything and everything, and he couldn't feel any unresolved problems between them.

"Are you going outside?" Crabbe asked when they sat down.

"No, I just brought all this for fun." Theodore said sarcastically and sighed.

"Oh."

Blaise snorted and dished himself some kidney pie. For a short moment the only sound was that of forks and knives on plates. That was, until Draco swept into the room and settled himself down gracefully beside Theodore. With a 'hmmph' noise he speared a piece of chicken and began to tear it up with his knife, fork still deeply imbedded.

"Uh, Drake?" Blaise asked warily. He poked him. "Drake?"

"What?" He snapped, moving onto his potatoes and leaving the massacred chicken alone.

"Why are you so angry?"

"Me? I'm not angry." He growled and his fork let out a loud screech on the plate.

"Okaaay." Theodore said, raising his eyebrows as he took a sip of pumpkin juice. "Why are you in such a good mood, then?"

"Because," he dropped his utensils with a clatter and snatched up Blaise's glass. Ignoring his protests, he downed it all and slammed it into the table. "Because, did you know that they're changing the curfews?"

"Er…What?" He asked in surprise. Draco could usually control himself a bit better, especially over something nearly insignificant.

"Oh." Blaise said, sounding disappointed. It was evident that they were thinking about something in particular that Theodore wasn't included in. "When?"

"The Prefects were just briefed. So Dumbledore is going to make an announcement tonight. For us, we have to be back in at _10:00_ instead of 10:30!" Draco looked absolutely furious.

"Why is this a problem?" Theodore asked, looking between the two with his eyebrows drawn together.

Draco glared at him in a way that suggested he was stupid. "Hm, let's think about this. One, it's a total violation of our rights! They can't change it now! Two, they didn't give us a real reason! Just some half-crap answer about lack of academic performance with tired students. Three, now this sets all our plans back, and I'll have to listen to more and more complaining from him," he nodded at Blaise, who was staring at him in horror, perhaps at what he was saying. "Three-"

"Students, if I could have your attention." Dumbledore stood up and the hall quieted immediately. "The staff and I have had a long discussion about this, and we feel a change in curfew is necessary…"

He watched Blaise's expression go from disappointment, to anger, to annoyance and then to wistfulness. He looked at Draco, who gave no indication he even heard what Dumbledore was saying.

With a sigh he set about watching Blaise's continuing expressions with interest. He hadn't thought one person capable of displaying that many different feelings on their face in so short a time. The black male saw him looking and frowned, "Aren't you the _least _bit annoyed?"

"Yes," he said, something about Blaise's tone putting him on the defensive. "But I don't see why it's enough to make you all freak out."

"We're supposed to go out to the lake." Blaise reminded him tersely.

"Yeah, we'll just not stay out so late." He replied, giving his friend look that asked him why he was overreacting so much.

"If it means nothing, let's not even bother going at all!" He stood up abruptly, threw his leg over the bench and stormed away. Theodore watched him in amazement.

"What's wrong with him?" Theodore asked as Blaise shoved open the door and nearly ran into a few third years.

Draco looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "I can't fathom a reason."

As the blond stood up and followed him, Theodore was left to puzzle over what he was missing.

It was eleven o'clock that night before he decided to creep upstairs and attempt to brave the frigid air in their dormitory. Even with the fireplaces burning fiercely you could still see your breath in the air. Of course, it was always coldest in the Slytherin Common Room, but it had never been _this _cold. The House Elves were going to have to start putting heating charms on their furniture.

Draco was out patrolling. Apparently, in defiance of the curfew changes, a lot of students had started running around in the halls like madmen. At first the staff had been able to deal with it, but then someone had tried to set off coloured sparks and set a 450 year old tapestry on fire. So the Prefects had been called in as backup assistance. Crabbe and Goyle were downstairs attempting to play Gobstones and Blaise… Well, he wasn't altogether sure where Blaise was. He was only slightly worried. He was so stealthy he could probably walk straight through the middle of the Common Room without being detected, so chances were he was already sleeping.

Teeth chattering he changed into his pajamas, got ready in the bathroom and slipped into his covers. Blaise's hangings were closed, which was a sure sign that he was in there.

Well, at least he _thought _that's what it meant.

It could mean that he was gone, and had closed the hangings so no one could know.

In fact, what if he'd been crossed by one of the rabid curfew changing un-supporters?

What if he'd been _attacked_?

What if, unbeknownst to Theodore, he was lying outside, frozen by the lake?

What if, in the morning when they sent out a search party, they found him dead outside? His thoughts flashed back to what they'd been talking about earlier and he could imagine Blaise's dead body, covered in frost, unmoving and unresponsive...

Theodore jolted out of his bed and dashed over to Blaise's hangings. He ripped them open, glanced at the bed in time to squint and see that it was empty, and then raced downstairs, irrational fear and horror driving him onward. Not even bothering to grab his cloak he dashed through Hogwarts in his cotton pajamas. He narrowly avoided being caught by Prefects and had a close call in which he thought Ernie Macmillan had seen him. By the time he reached the big doors leading out of the castle he was gasping for breath.

Clutching his side he pulled on the heavy doors and squeezed through the gap he created. It was darker than he'd imagined it would be and he felt around for his wand. With a sinking feeling, his brain realized what he'd done faster than his hands, so they kept searching. He hadn't even grabbed his wand from his bedside table. His eyes traveled from the dark grounds to the streak of light shimmering in the air. It would take too long to go back; he had no choice but to go onwards.

With a small moan of discomfort he began a slippery trek towards what he was hoping was the lake. When the ground began to slope slightly he knew he was moving in the general direction, and figured that if he started calling out soon, Blaise would answer. If he was conscious. However, when he got distracted by a movement to his left he slipped and, with a loud yell of '_fuck_!' he fell to the ground.

Unfortunately, the hill didn't even out and he rolled down the small slope, fingers trying to get a hold in the wet ground and failing. With a gasp he hit what could only be the lake. His lungs turned to ice as he inhaled and his entire body froze up. His soaked pajamas made him feel heavy, but he was still in shallow water.

Shuddering and coughing he moved onto his knees and wrapped his arms around himself. He tried to get up and take a step but went keeling forward, crashing into the water and hitting his arms on the lake's floor. By now he was hacking up water and could hardly breathe. _My body will go into shock. If it isn't already there now. _He thought and tried to crawl forward.

How amusing that he'd come out to save Blaise, who it seemed wasn't even out here, and had ended up hurting himself instead. In water that was only about a meter deep. What an embarrassing way to die.

"Theodore?"

_Great. Hallucinations. _His mind thought dryly as he stumbled forward, submerging again and driving all thought from his mind.

"-eodore! Theodore! _Theodore_!" It sounded a bit like Draco. He turned his eyes to the voice and saw the tip of a wand lighten up.

"Draco!" He croaked and dragged his numb limbs forward, struggling quite a bit – was it really only three steps? - until he collapsed on the side bank and pressed his forehead into the cold ground, gasping for air he couldn't seem to inhale. It would have required effort he couldn't even imagine to raise his arms or call out.

"Theodore! Good Merlin, you chose _now_ to go swimming?" Draco reached him and dragged off his cloak, wrapping it around his friend's shaking body. "What were you doing out here?"

"L-l-l-looking for B-B-Blaise." He said, trembling and using Draco as support to help him to his feet. When it became apparent that he had little to no strength, Draco dragged one of his arms around his neck and hauled him to his feet.

"And you thought you'd find him in the lake?"

"I-I checked h-h-his b-b-bed and h-he wa-wasn't there." He said, clutching Draco's arm, as though cutting off his circulation would somehow help his own lack of warmth. "I thought h-he'd b-b-be b-b-by the l-lake s-so I came h-here t-t-to l-look f-for him. H-h-how d-did y-you f-f-find m-me?"

"MacMillan saw you and came running off to find me. So I went to the Common Room and Blaise said you'd ran off in a storm and he didn't know why. We sort of came to the conclusion you'd come here, since you yanked open his hangings first. He wanted to come charging down here himself, but I made him stay. And here you are."

"Oh." He said, shuffling alongside Draco. His teeth clacked together and his hair felt frozen.

"There's the school. We should hurry."

"M-m-mhm-m." He agreed softly, clutching his soaked arms to his chest. No doubt the clinging material showed off exactly how unattractively skinny he was. He hoped it didn't outline his ribs. The idea of Blaise seeing him like that was very unappealing.

Once they reached the school – it seemed to take ages – his body gladly went into the light and heat. After he'd shoved the door closed, Draco retrieved his wand from his robes and raised it, but they heard the distinct noise of footsteps coming right for them. Swearing under his breath, Draco muttered, '_Nox_!' and they were plunged into darkness.

The footsteps drew nearer and he was worried his teeth might be heard, so he tried to clench his jaw together. Unfortunately, this caused pain, but it was a small sacrifice compared to a million detentions.

"Anyone?" Asked a student, though he didn't know who it was. Their wand was lit up and he prayed that it didn't graze their feet.

"No." Macmillan replied, "But if Nott was out here, Malfoy probably got him in pretty fast."

"I don't know why you'd bother doing him any favors, he's a Slytherin." The other voice muttered somewhat sullenly.

"Prefects are supposed to rise above preferential treatment based on House," Ernie snapped, "and he wasn't doing anything to cause chaos, so I figured I'd let him off the hook."

"I don't know why he'd even want to go out, it's bloody cold!"

"I don't try to understand people who do strange things," Ernie said in a low voice. "We should go back, the teachers won't want us over here."

"Yeah." They turned and their footsteps retreated. Draco had his hand on Theodore's arm and he quickly followed them. When they reached a divide in the corridor, the Hufflepuffs thankfully took the one that led away from the dungeons. They shuffled down the halls and his breathing, labored from poor physical condition and the icy holes piercing his lungs with each breath he drew, was forming in clouds before him.

When they got back to the Slytherin Dormitories, the Common Room was completely empty, except for one person. Blaise was pacing in front of the couch by the fire in his striped pajama bottoms and long sleeved shirt. "Oh my God!" He strode across the room as soon as they stepped in. "What happened?"

"Theodore decided to take a swim." Draco said dryly. Blaise inhaled sharply, which Theodore probably wouldn't have heard if he hadn't been standing so close.

"You imbecile!" He said, even as his hands moved to Theodore's upper arms and began to rub fervently across them in an effort to create heat. "Why? Are you suicidal?"

"No," he said tiredly, comforted by Blaise's warm hands, and he automatically leaned in and let his friend support some of his weight. He must have charmed them with something, because waves of heat washed over him from the contact.

"You're fucking cold," Blaise continued, glaring at him in a way that suggested he was offended by this turn of events.

"I n-noticed." He said back, very glad his stuttering had ceased slightly. Abruptly, the dark skinned male threw his arms around him. For a moment, Theodore felt completely warm and his eyes fluttered shut, his own arms lifting to encircle Blaise. The heat from the other body seemed to mesh perfectly with his own and he pulled the other male a bit closer, sighing with content, hands resting on the small of his back while Blaise's traced up and down his spine.

"Well, hurry up and get upstairs!" Draco said and Theodore felt Blaise jump, "You can have a shower."

He nodded, extremely discomfited by the loss of his friend's body, who was looking at him with a sort of worry and embarrassment. He made it upstairs – though he still moved slowly. Everything seemed much, much harder with his entire body frozen and his lungs still hurting with each breath.

Blaise shoved him into the bathroom and turned off the water as he stripped away his clothes. A bit of ice had actually started forming over it and his chest ached. He'd peeled off his shirt when Blaise turned around and ceased movement, staring, immobile, at him.

"What's wrong?" He asked somewhat sluggishly, fighting to remove the button on his trousers. For a moment he thought Blaise was going to come over and do it for him – his eyes focused intensely on Theodore's fumbling hands – but then didn't.

"Nothing." He murmured, turning his eyes back to the water, now pouring steam into the bathroom and fogging up the mirror. "I'll check on you in five minutes…Make sure you don't drown or something."

He managed a weak laugh, a bit confused by the strange, foreign quality in Blaise's voice. It was almost…deeper. And a bit hoarse, but not in the way someone's voice went when they were sick. His friend left and shut the door quietly behind him. After removing the remainder of his clothes from his body he stepped into the shower.

The water seared his skin and he let out a small yelp. While it did warm him up, there was still a cold feeling in his stomach. Turning his face up into the downpour he closed his eyes and felt the heat wash over him, fighting to destroy the remnants of his cold. When he turned off the water and stepped out he found a pair of fresh pajamas folded by the sink. After toweling himself dry he slipped them on, collected his other clothes and hung them out on a rack.

He had just about opened the door when there was a quick knock. "Theo?" Grinning, he opened the door and watched as the steam rushed out into Blaise's face. "Good, you're alive, than."

"Yeah," he said, breezing past him and shivering as the heat from the bathroom disappeared. "Sorry to keep you up."

"No explanation?" Blaise asked him, following his progress to his bed. "You just felt like jumping in the lake?"

"I was worried and you weren't in here." He corrected, wrapping himself up in blankets. "So I checked your bed and you weren't there-"

"Yeah I was. You just didn't look closely enough." His friend interrupted, standing over his bed. Draco was nowhere in sight, so he assumed that he'd gone back to join the Prefects.

"OK, well I thought you were in the halls. I got worried that someone had attacked you-"

"Attacked me?" Blaise snorted, rubbing his right forearm.

"Do you want to know or not? You know how I get worked up over these things." He muttered, and continued when the darker male didn't speak. "So I went out looking for you. Only I forgot my wand, but it would take too long to come back and get it. So I went anyway, but I slipped on the grass. I rolled down the hill, into the lake. Then Draco came and helped me out."

"You ran out into the dark, because you were worried about me?" Blaise asked, a dubious expression on his face.

"Er…Yeah?" He asked, hoping that was the right answer. It was hard to tell these days whether or not the truth would set Blaise off– his moods all seemed to be variations of pissed off.

"Oh. But you hate the dark. It reminds you of home." Blaise said and stared at him, his eyebrows drawn together. "Theo, I-"

"It's okay, Blaise. You would do the same for me." Theodore said and laid down, effectively ending their conversation. There was a silence as Blaise got into bed as well and he thought he heard a sigh.

A long pause ensued and the air felt static. A part of him was trying to come up with something to say, while the other part was trying to sleep, and another part was shaking because it was fucking _cold_. It was as though he knew Blaise expected him to say something – as though something special was happening that he shouldn't ignore.

And then the moment passed and he released tension he hadn't realized he'd had. Unfortunately, this provided more opportunity to feel the cold, slowly creeping under his skin and into his bones. When his teeth began to chatter again he tried to muffle in by pulling the blankets over his head, but it didn't really work.

There was a loud noise, somewhat like a sigh, as Blaise rolled over. "Theo." He peered over the duvet. The other male had lifted his blankets with one hand and was holding them up. "Hurry up, it's cold."

Without hesitation he jumped across the space between their beds and slid under Blaise's blankets. It had been awhile since they'd slept in the same bed, but it didn't feel awkward. To him, at least. The bed's other occupant just accepted his presence and dropped the blankets down.

The heat that Blaise's body gave off, combined with the excess in the blankets, made him sigh with content for the second time that night. With a mischievous smile he put his hands on Blaise's shirt, shoved the material up and let his colds fingers rest on his bare skin.

"_God_," Blaise hissed, trying to shy away from them. "That's cold."

"I know." He said, running them up his torso, letting the cold digits rest just over his ribcage. Blaise sucked in another breath as he let them hover, absorbing the warmth. Chuckling slightly he used his feet to push up the legs on his friend's pants and rested his feet on his calves. Blaise jumped again, his breathing quickening.

"What are you doing?"

"Exploiting your body heat. Getting warm." He replied casually. Blaise hissed again and he smirked. "Ticklish?"

"Oh, shut up." The other Slytherin said in a constricted way. He felt a bit bad, apparently Blaise _really_ didn't like the cold - it made him breathe all funny and practically jump off the bed.

Snickering he extended his fingers and made a tickling movement again. Blaise let out a small noise from the back of his throat and grabbed his wrists. "Theodore," he said in a low voice.

His attention was drawn upwards to Blaise's face. It was very dark, but his eyes had adjusted to the light and he could see faint shadows of his features. Features that were suddenly very close.

Theodore's heartbeat sped up. It seemed to have to do with Blaise's breath, gently fanning his left cheekbone. Mouth opening slightly, he struggled to find something to find to ease the newly intense atmosphere. His mind drew a blank. The slight scent of the mint toothpaste Blaise used made him want to inhale, it was so nice. Heat began to flame across his face as Blaise's moved closer until…until…

His anticipation – his longing – his _need_ - for what was sure to come was so strong it was almost blinding. Yet he still managed to see the dark, dark blue of his friend's glittering eyes, and the intensity with which they regarded him as their lips brushed.

He could have fainted from the very sensation of someone, and not _just_ someone, but _Blaise's _lips touching his own, had he not been so eager to find out what happened next.

Which was nothing.

Crabbe stood up and they both froze as he ambled into the bathroom. Still frozen, they heard the toilet flush and then he lumbered back, falling onto his bed and beginning to snore.

The electricity that had flowed between them seemed to dissipate, to be replaced by questions and uncertainty. "G'night." Blaise mumbled, turning his face into the pillow and almost pushing away Theodore's hands.

Face flaming he extracted his body parts from Blaise and rolled over, facing his own empty bed. "Night."

A few minutes later – after Blaise's breathing evened out - he got out of the bed to grab his writing journal. After flipping to a free page he started scribbling into it, describing the sensation of being so close, the confusion that enveloped one upon realizing how much they wanted something they'd never thought was missing, and the intense way Blaise's eyes seemed to see his soul. He let the questions flow freely and described his insecurity with the entire situation, ink coating his fingers and his writing messy and uncontrolled. The tight ball of anxiety that had formed within him lessened a bit as he wrote, channeling his fear into the only medium of expression he had.

'_The most wonderful, scary, amazing thing just happened to me…'_

After he was satisfied that his feelings had been accurately released he debated returning to bed with Blaise, but decided he might as well to avoid questioning about why he'd left. He stuffed his journal underneath his blankets and then rejoined his sleeping friend, staring at the dark ceiling until he fell asleep.

Needless to say, any cold he'd experienced was now gone.

The next morning he woke up alone. The bed he was lying on was not his own, he could feel it, and that realization brought back all his memories from the previous night.

_Oh buggar. What am I supposed to say to him this morning? _Shaking off his momentary paralysis he quickly hopped out of bed, looking around to see if any of the other room's occupants were around. To his happiness they weren't, so he made his side of the bed and then hurried to his own, distancing himself from the scene of the crime.

The abrupt end to the sound of running was cut through his current relief like a knife. _What do I do? What do I do? _

He turned his back to the door and hurried over to his trunk. After stuffing his journal beneath his dress robes, right at the bottom, he pulled out a clean set of robes. Blaise opened the door and there was a short silence, before he walked over to his trunk, opened it and dumped in his pajamas. "Morning." He said quietly, leaving Theodore the choice of what to say.

"Morning." He replied, unsure of what else to say. "Did you sleep well?"

_Shit. Bad place to go. Bad place to go. Don't mention sleeping. Or the bed. Or kissing. Or any thoughts you might have about doing it again. Or doing more. Or - _

"Okay," Blaise replied and there was another moment of silence. "Are you going down to breakfast?"

"Yeah," he eagerly seized the subject for its normality. "I just need to get changed. Meet me there?"

"Sure," his friend turned away from him. "See you down there."

"Yeah," Theodore nodded a few too many times and snatched up his robes, before fleeing to the bathroom. With a small sigh he wondered if he'd just made a big mistake.

It wasn't but a few days later when Draco came after him.

Well, came after wasn't exactly the best way to put it. He didn't hunthim down, or anything. But he did seem intent on seeking him out and having a few words. Theodore tried to avoid being alone, but Draco was also a Slytherin, a bloody good one at that, and therefore managed to pull him away on the pretense of a difficult problem for Arithmancy. Nothing like the mention of Arithmancy to scatter a crowd.

"There," he closed the door to the empty classroom they were in. "Now no one will overhear."

"Great." Theodore replied weakly.

"So, there was something I need to talk to you about." Draco said seriously and Theodore involuntarily took a step back.

"What is it?"

"Blaise." he answered simply, yet it still managed to cause a bit of fear in Theodore.

"Oh, yeah. He has seemed a bit off the last few weeks, but the one time I asked you, you called me a stupid-"

Draco cut him off mid-babble. "Don't be an idiot. I know what happened."

"He _told _you?" he gaped, eyes widening. There was no doubt in his mind about what Draco could be referring to.

Draco's lips pressed in a tight line. "Actually no, I was awake at the time. And then I forced him to recount events for me the next day."

"Oh," Theodore said, as his face blushed fuchsia. He didn't know why, they hadn't done anything incriminating – so _what_, their lips had touched a bit? It was dark, and hard to see. It was probably an accident. In fact, Theodore couldn't be sure it had even happened. Maybe he'd hallucinated.

"Yeah, oh." Draco said and then his already intimidating tone lowered, "So all I have to say is stay the fuck away from him."

"What?" He gasped, surprised, as millions of scenarios – many involving Draco and Blaise as a couple, which was absurd because neither of them was like that– began to run through his head.

"Blaise does not need you to fuck around with him right now, alright? I don't care if you're his friend, don't play games with him."

"I'm _not_." He protested, folding his arms across his chest in a startlingly overt display of anger. "Why would you care, anyway?"

"If you think I'm interested in Blaise, you're wrong. Trust me, I am completely heterosexual." Draco laughed, "But he's a good friend, and I won't refrain from beating your brains out if you hurt him in any way, shape or form. Got it?"

"I doubt you could beat my brains out."

"Fine, I'll get someone else to do it." he said smoothly. "No matter. Your condition will be the same."

"Look, why's it any of your business? There's _nothing_ going on." He changed tactics, trying to use the truth instead. Frankly, he didn't have any idea what was going on, but denying it seemed like a good idea. What had happened that night…If it _had _happened, really…Well, it was just a strange, awkward situation. Probably inspired by the hands Theodore had shoved up his friend's shirt. They were both teenage boys and, now that he thought about it, if someone starting touching his bare chest, he'd probably want to kiss them too.

Draco narrowed his eyes and surveyed him for a few long moments. "You honestly don't know?"

"Don't know _what_?" he demanded, frustrated. Draco managed to be very direct and elusive at the same, an irritating combination.

Draco sighed, rubbing a temple. "Look, Blaise likes you."

It took him a long time to even begin to contemplate why these words were important. Draco wasn't interesting in waiting, so he rephrased the statement when it became apparent that Theodore didn't understand. "Blaise, our good friend, _fancies_ you."

Theodore just stood there, mouth open and an expression of incomprehension on his face. "God, you're an imbecile. He's attracted to you, so when you stick your hands up his shirt, guess what happens?"

"Oh." he said stupidly as his head reeled with this information.

"Yeah, oh. So if you keep on doing these things to him-"

"Okay, that was _one_ time!" he managed to protest weakly.

Draco snorted. No doubt as another jab at Theodore's intelligence. "How about when you touch his neck? Or his hand? Shoulder? When you stare at him-"

"I don't stare at him!"

"Yes, you do. In fact, he's actually mentioned it a few times to me. It makes him hopeful."

He continued to gawk at Draco, gulping like a goldfish. No, this was all wrong, Blaise was the one who always stared at him! He caught him doing it _all_ the time! _All the time! _In fact, Theodore could almost not recall a time where he'd taken a good, long look at the expression on Blaise's face and hadn't seen a clearly staring face! He told this to Draco, who actually threw his head back and laughed.

"You just said that you watch him all the time."

_Oh. Oh dear Merlin, I do! I do stare! _Apparently, he had also announced this out loud, because Draco laughed again.

"Yeah, so if you wouldn't mind keeping your hands to yourself for awhile, Blaise might be a bit happier."

"He's unhappy?" Theodore asked, frowning and trying to ignore the glaze of heat he felt on his face.

"Yeah, obviously. Think about it, Theodore." Draco moved even closer, eyes intent on proving his point. "He's attracted to you. Do you know what that means?"

"Er...No."

"It_ means_ he may be gay." Draco explained carefully. "But he doesn't really know. Also, he's attracted to _you_."

Theodore was expecting a snide remark about how pitiful it would be to fancy someone as pathetic as he was, so what Draco said came as a bit of a shock.

"You're his best friend. So he's trying to change how he feels, ignore what he _is _feeling, and make sure you don't find out."

"You just told me!" Theodore glared at Draco, folding his arms over his chest. "Why would you do that if he didn't want me to know?"

"Because you can make it easier for him! If you sort of distance yourself, stop sending him signals-"

"I haven't been sending him signals!"

"Well he's definitely been getting them! So, if you will _listen_," he received an icy glare, "You can reduce the pressure. He's feeling really weird, imagine how _you_ would feel if _you_ were attracted to_ him_. So will you just lay off?"

Theodore and Draco glared into each other's eyes, before he couldn't keep the eye contact and turned his attention to the floor. "Fine. Fine, I'll stay away." He lifted his arms in surrender and left without a backward glance.

This wasn't fair. He was Blaise's friend, and even if Blaise_ did_ like him…Well, why did they both have to suffer? What if Blaise got over him, if those were even the right words, and then they started being friends again and then he fell back?

What if Blaise met someone else? As in, a _male_ someone else?

His stomach clenched painfully as his mind continued to consider what would happen in gruesome detail. He would introduce the mystery guy to his friends first, and then his family. Then he would be invited to their family reunion, an honor that Theodore was familiar with but no one else was. Would this stupid guy Blaise fancied know what to do when his Uncle Gilroy drank too much Firewhiskey and starting singing and dancing on the tables, like he did every year at Christmas?

No, he wouldn't. And would he know what to do if Blaise consumed too much alcohol while he was supposed to be confiscating it from Aunt Erma? No, probably not.

In fact, that stupid idiot probably thought he was going to waltz right in and take Theodore's place in Blaise's life.

Well, he had another thing coming.

The problem was, he realized after the worst event in history had occurred, that he had been curious. For the next few weeks after the incident with Draco, he'd wanted to see exactly how Blaise would react to things he did.

They were little things, of course. Just small touches.

It was probably really horrible, but it hadn't been_ that_ bad. He'd asked for a spare quill, Blaise had handed him one and he'd purposefully let his fingers brush Blaise's. He often leaned over him during meals, or moved quite close to him while someone sat beside him. Not big deals at all.

In fact, if he really thought about it, they were all just tests to confirm what Draco had said. And maybe a normal person would have been satisfied with the small shiver that Blaise had given when their fingers had brushed, but a small chill had swept through the room at the time, so Theodore had gotten a tingly feeling up his spine, too. That hardly proved anything.

And perhaps that time in Potions, when he'd gone to say something to Blaise and instead whispered it in his ear might have shown him the truth, as well. Accidentally - it actually _was_ accidental - his tongue had touched the skin just below Blaise's earlobe. Blaise's sharp intake of air was probably enough evidence, but at precisely that time Longbottom succeeded in melting his 5th cauldron of the year, so the failed potion inside was burning people and slowly creeping towards them. Hence the reason Theodore's head had been spinning as he'd grabbed Blaise's hand and pulled them both up onto chairs. It was also why Draco, who had become very watchful of Theodore, didn't see.

He admitted that getting changed in front of his dark skinned friend on purpose one night had been a bit mean. Especially since he took a laboriously long time taking his clothes off, as he was trying to gauge Blaise's reaction without making it obvious. Of course, just because the other Slytherin had cleared his throat and then hurried downstairs because he'd forgotten something didn't mean anything. In fact, that whole scenario was a bit embarrassing, because Theodore was kind of scrawny, so maybe he'd been trying not to laugh.

The one time he acknowledged he'd gone a bit too far was once during dinner. They'd been finishing up dessert and he'd been eating a delicious looking pudding. Draco, Blaise and a seventh year named Davis had been discussing the most recent Quidditch Match (predictably, Gryffindor skinned Hufflepuff alive) when he noticed Blaise had fallen silent. With more interest than he'd displayed the entire conversation he looked up and across the table.

Theodore experienced a small jolt in his stomach when he saw the glazed over eyes staring, transfixed, at him and then way Blaise's lips were open slightly, almost as if he imagined _doing_ something with them.

Perhaps a normal person would have been mortified if their friend, who seemed to fancy them, may or may not have been having some sort of sexually inspired fantasy involving them. However, Theodore wasn't just a normal person. So, still watching Blaise, he stuck out his tongue and licked some pudding off the spoon in a slow swipe.

To his surprise, Blaise didn't do anything too drastic. His face just darkened considerably, as did his eyes, and he bit his lip, before looking away. Theodore found himself unable to avert his eyes and continued to watch his friend. The image it created as his head angled away was truly…well, handsome. The arch of his neck made his chin more prominent, and his lips looked quite soft. He'd never noticed before, how delicately the color of his dark skin shifted to his lips, which opened over his white teeth when he smiled wonderfully. His nose, slightly pointed, drew a straight ridge to his eyes, which were half-lidded. His black lashes almost touched his cheek and cast light shadows on his skin.

Blaise turned again, this time with an expression of light confusion, and caught Theodore staring. A bit horrified, he couldn't bring himself to look away, or even duck his head in embarrassment. His friend just stared evenly back, as though the exchanged meant nothing, as though he couldn't see Theodore's eyes, pouring out feelings he didn't even understand.

"Theodore, are you done?" Draco asked tersely and he jerked his head to the side, breaking their eye contact.

"Yeah."

"Let's go, then, I have another question about Arithmancy." Those words alerted Theodore to the fact that it was very, _very_ obvious Draco had seen what had happened. The pursing of his lips indicated his displeasure and the crease in his brow showed his annoyance.

"Of course."

"We'll see you later, Blaise." Draco said, carefully deflecting any questions about whether or not his presence was wanted.

"Sure," he said in a husky voice that, had Theodore not been determined to avoid his gaze, would made him look back in interest. Instead he flushed, shouldered his bag and followed Draco's casual saunter.

They walked in silence to the dungeons and he shoved his hands in his pockets. It was still very cold, but the House Elves had put heating charms around the dungeons. They had certain abilities that made them good creatures to take care of humans, so if their owner was often cold, their magic would send small veins of warmth through the wall and effectively warm the room. This was often used by wizards negotiating big deals. When their opponent, of sorts, walked into a cold room it put them on edge, but the warming temperature gradually made them more comfortable and susceptible to persuasion.

They stepped into the Common Room and Theodore stopped, expecting an immediate confrontation, but instead Draco kept walking up into the dormitory. With a slight sense of apprehension he followed, slowly adopting an expression of defiance to counteract what Draco would inevitably say.

As soon as he'd closed the door to their room, Draco rounded on him and crossed his arms. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"Hm, well, this freaky looking person is glaring at me and looks like they want to rip out my throat." He stated calmly, amazed by his ability not to cower in fear. "But I can't_ imagine_ what's wrong with me."

"Did you even listen to what I said?" The blond snapped, "What kind of stupid demonstration was that?"

"What?" He asked in a snide voice, examining his thumb nail.

Draco threw up his hands in frustration. "You stupid, arrogant, imbecile! You just- Merlin, you've got_no_ idea, do you?"

"No idea about what?" He demanded, eyes furrowed.

"Blaise really, really fancies you." Draco bit out, grinding his teeth together so loudly Theodore could hear them gyrating. "A lot. Merlin knows _why_. He wants you more than you've probably ever wanted anything in your life."

Theodore flushed, just as he always did when he thought about that subject. Which was uncomfortably often. He opened his mouth to speak, but Draco interrupted him and began to advance. "He thinks about you almost every waking hour." Another step. "He dreams about you, too." Another step. "He hasn't touched anyone else this year, because the only person he thinks about is you." Another step. "He tries to make you happy, all the time, because he likes when you smile, and when you're gone, he's upset. When he talks to me about you, he talks in a wistful voice and sometimes, he wishes you fancied him back _so much_ it actually _hurts _him to see you every day."

Theodore was really quite uneasy at that moment. For one thing, Draco looked very menacing when he was walking in that way. For another, the idea that someone would feel that for him was slightly unreal. And foremost was the fact that this was _Blaise_. His best friend, his almost constant companion, the only person he'd ever felt truly connected to. Why did things have to be so complicated?

"Look, why do you keep telling me this stuff?" Theodore asked, glaring at the blond.

"Why do you think?"

"I don't _know_, that's why I _asked_ you!" he snapped through gritted teeth.

"OK, fine, I'll be completely straight with you – more straight than I already have been, because you're much stupider than I ever anticipated. Blaise fancies you a lot, and you need to stop playing around with his feelings because you find the whole idea fascinating!"

"I do not play around with him!" He protested, feeling a hot flush creep up his neck.

"Yes, you do. I've seen you! Today, licking the fucking spoon like that? It's not funny! So stop messing around with him!"

"I can mess around with what I want!" He shouted back, flinging him arm out and hitting a book off Crabbe's bedside table. A layer of dust exploded off it, and as he blinked he noticed something beyond horrible – something so terrifying and awful he couldn't breathe.

It was Blaise. At the door, with his mouth hanging open in shock and an expression of agony on his face. In the two seconds following the time when Theodore's eyes took Blaise in, the dust slowly fluttered the ground and nothing was between them.

"Blaise?" Theodore acted quickly, somehow desperate words forming past his suddenly heavy lips. "Blaise, how much did you just hear?"

Draco walked towards him but the dark male backed up against the door, his face contorting into different expressions. The most noticeable, and also painful, was the one that conveyed his complete humiliation, the likes of which Theodore had never seen adorn his friend's face. "Blaise?"

"Shut up, Draco." He hissed, hand twisting the knob. "Just - just shut the _fuck_ up."

"Blaise-" Theodore tried to speak, to say something that would change the catastrophic situation they were now in, but couldn't even figure out how to use his voice.

"Don't talk to me." Blaise said in a biting tone, making him cringe away. "Don't you ever fucking talk to me again. I-I don't care if you think you can do whatever you want with me. Stay away."

The words hardly meant anything in comparison to the way they were said. The bitter defence in his voice and the slight tremble there – though from fear of anger he couldn't tell – made his heart break into tiny pieces. Theodore didn't even understand why he was feeling these things with such severity.

"Please, listen." He found himself pleading, taking another step forward.

"No. No, just fuck _off_." Blaise finally twisted the doorknob's handle and whipped open the door and sprinted through it, nearly running into the frame. His footsteps seemed to echo off the walls in the now silent room.

"He-heard-it-all!" He turned wildly to Draco, who looked so shocked it might have been comical, but really wasn't.

"I had no idea." Was the sarcastic response he got, not satisfying in the slightest. There should have been yelling and screaming.

"I hate you."

"_You_ hate _me_?" Draco raised an eyebrow. "That sure does hurt. This isn't my fault, you know."

"How is this not your fault? You shouldn't have been saying those things anyway, and now he's too upset to even talk to me-"

"I thought you two were friends." Draco cut in and Theodore resisted the urge to scream, something he'd only had to do a few times in his life.

"We _were_, but now he's too embarrassed-"

"I _meant _that if you're his friend, don't you realize what upset him the most? It wasn't me telling you all that."

He tried to think back to what Draco was talking about, but all he could see in his mind was Blaise, backing away, looking afraid, and hurt and-

"It was you. Yes, he heard me telling you things but you said you could do whatever you wanted, you practically admitted you'd been messing around with him for fun." Draco didn't seem inclined to wait for his mind to catch up to recent events.

"But I _wasn't_." He wailed, his hands ended up flailing in an attempt to get across how he felt and grabbed Draco's forearms. "I wasn't trying to mess with him, I just wanted to know if he really felt all that! But it never worked, there kept being chills and accidents and-"

"What are you talking about?"

He just kept on going. "So I kept shivering and was trying to get away from the potion and I don't know why I feel so _feverish_ all the time but maybe I have some sort of disease-"

"Theodore, shut up." Draco said, his eyes were guarded but glittered mysteriously. "You feel-" He broke off, frowning. "Oh no."

He was so panicked he hardly noticed that the blond was saying anything. "What do I do? What do I _say_?"

"Theodore, listen to me." Draco gripped his forearms. "Listen closely because I'm going to say this once. I fucked up, okay? I messed up really, really badly. You have to talk to Blaise."

"What?" Theodore asked stupidly, "Didn't you just finish telling me to stay away from him?"

"Good God, you've no idea." Draco let go of him and turned around, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe I'm stuck in the middle of this. Look, just try and figure out how you – no, no, just find Blaise as soon as you can and try and talk to him."

"What do I say?" He demanded frantically.

"Just wing it." Draco turned him to the door, and for a moment Theodore had to resist the urge to burst into laughter. "Hurry up!"

He stumbled to the door and, suddenly blinded by the desire to chase after his friend, he threw it open. After nearly tripping over his feet he hurried down the stairs, through the Common Room and darted through the door into the dungeons. He didn't really have a plan of action, like Draco probably would have, but he felt like he knew where to go.

It didn't take him long to reach the lake once he started on the grass, though he was immensely grateful for the heat his wand provided. He approached the tree they'd often sat under, heart beating frantically. He turned around the trunk and –

No one was there. Disappointment rose through him and he dropped to the ground, head spinning. The grass was wet from the rain he hadn't even noticed was falling and as it soaked his clothes he was reminded of his encounter with the lake, not so long ago.

Everything had moved so fast. He'd been having a normal, threatening conversation that somehow turned into the most horrible thing he'd ever experienced. He couldn't believe it had happened. Blaise _knew_. In fact, perhaps even worse was that _he_ knew for sure; he had no more ways of denying it to himself. It was almost as if this was some sort of intense revelation about himself that he'd always known but hadn't accepted, yet it was really just acknowledging his best friend's homosexual feelings for him.

What to do? The very prospect of facing Blaise now made him feel more than a little ill. It was now up to him to make a choice: return the feelings or reject them. Of course, he didn't even know why he even considered there to be a choice, he wasn't like that. He didn't fancy other males. He just didn't.

Angrily he kicked at the tree, crying out when his foot started to throb from pain. The fury that began to rock through him soon drowned out the pain. It wasn't in his natural frame of mind to initiate confrontations and make life altering choices – a fact well known to Blaise, but those were the things his 'friend' was forcing him to do. It wasn't fair. Didn't his feelings matter at all, or was it all about Blaise? No doubt Draco would somehow get Blaise to blame everything on him, and then he'd be isolated all over again, except this time, Blaise wouldn't seek him out to try and become friends again. It was all him.

He suddenly felt truly alone, not in the way he had when he'd gone home to Christmas the previous year and his Father hadn't recognized him. Because some part of him must have realized that he'd had Blaise. But now he didn't. Now it was between him and Blaise, and the other male had put everything he had up on the table. The thought made his fury bubble until before he knew it he'd launched himself to his feet and was storming back to the castle.

If a confrontation was what Blaise wanted, it was what he was going to get.

When he got to their dormitory, he waited a moment outside to catch his breath and then ripped open the door, anger still in full throttle. It possessed his body and had egged him on throughout his walk conjuring up image after image of Blaise's apparent desolation.

The conversation inside came to an abrupt halt – Draco with his hands behind his back and Blaise with his covering his head – and Theodore stood in the doorway, breathing heavily, though now only from the emotion boiling beneath his skin. "Blaise," he snapped out, "I need to talk to you. _Now_."

Blaise looked up and Theodore felt a small pang when he noticed the redness around his eyes, but it was short-lived. "In the Common Room."

"Is anyone else there?" Draco asked shortly, as the third male seemed incapable of speech.

"No." He replied and whirled around, "Let's go."

There was a long silence behind him, but he let the door swing closed. He knew that his friend would come, if only for the cruel reason that if he fancied Theodore enough, he would go because that's what Theodore wanted. He took a seat in front of the fireplace and then stood, pacing in front of the blazing tendrils of flame.

After what felt like days in his impatient mind, he heard a door click open and Blaise came down, face ashen. In fact, he looked to be on the point of a nervous breakdown as he hovered at the bottom of the stairs.

"You can sit." Theodore jerked his head at the couch. His companion did as was said, and he found he didn't like this new obedience. Or the fear that clearly accompanied it. "So." He said, crossing the threshold two more times. "So."

He stopped in front of the fire, so that he could see his silhouette against the floor, surrounded by glittering flickers of light. "You fancy me?" There was no reply. "No point in lying."

Blaise was staring at the ground, hands clamped together on his lap. Theodore saw them shaking. "Yes," he croaked, voice hoarse.

Theodore's stomach jolted uncomfortably. "How much?"

"A lot."

"Why?" He demanded, slamming a fist into the wall, bolded by the anger and frustration rocketing through him.

"Do you really want to know?" Blaise whispered after a moment, looking up and then quickly averting his eyes.

"Yes." He replied and began pacing again. "Tell me everything."

"Because." Blaise spoke so softly – and yet his voice was still cracking every other word and it seemed like he was forcing each sound past his lips - Theodore had to stop moving to hear the words, much to his chagrin. "You're funny, you make me laugh all the time… When you read, your lips sometimes mouth the sentences you like, and I think it's…" He broke off, took a few deep, shuddering breaths and continued. "You're really intelligent. I…I admire it. I admire you…I think you're beautiful." He let out a choked noise that Theodore didn't think he wanted to know what it was. Probably because it involved tears.

"Men aren't supposed to be beautiful." He said snappily, feeling both insulted and flattered.

"You are." Blaise replied, in a voice that was a bit congested. "Your eyes are so deep, and your hair is really soft…"

He experienced another jolt, though he didn't know if it was the tone of his friend's wistful voice or the words he spoke. "Your lips look really soft, and the bottom one is slightly more full than the upper one…"

"What else?" He demanded, and noted with slight self-pity that he was drinking up the words desperately. He wondered why Blaise was even answering his question; surely it would be embarrassing. Unless he realized how much Theodore truly needed to hear each word, how much he wanted to hear affection, because so much had been missing from his life.

"You talk in your sleep, sometimes." His tone told Theodore he was on the brink of a meltdown; he just needed one reason to break. "And you've said my name a few times, and I've seen you look at me with a weird expression and I find it really…I don't know…I must have interpreted it the way I wished it was..."

Another jolt. Theodore began to pace again, because he felt like if he didn't he would explode. "So you fancy me?" Again, with the indescribable emotion. It felt like a balloon of fire was expanding just below his ribcage, making it hard to breathe and hurting his chest. It was stronger now, and he raked a hand through his hair. He wondered what it would feel like if Blaise did that. "You honest to God _fancy_ me?"

"Yes." Blaise screwed his eyes shut.

"That's - that's just disgusting!" He realized he was yelling. "Why would you like _me_? I mean, I'm a guy! I can't believe this!"

He hardly heard the words coming from his mouth in a stream of disbelief. He ranted about how Blaise's life was so empty he had to turn desperately to Theodore, about how frustrating it was for him to have to deal with it, and how it was unfair for him to be in that position, about how could his friend like him, if they were both _males_?

That was when Blaise started to really cry. His eyes had been filling up, but when he started talking about how they were both boys he began to sob in earnest. For a moment Theodore stared, dumbfounded. That wasn't in the plan. In the plan, Blaise fought back. He didn't start _crying_ in the plan. He wasn't supposed to bury his head in his hands and just _weep_.

"Blaise?" He asked, his voice confused. There was no response. "Blaise?"

Nothing.

He debated for several seconds what to do – and then he went with his natural impulse, which was always abnormally informal with Blaise – he sat down, placing a hand on his arm. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it."

There was no response and he continued to apologize pointlessly, until Blaise finally quieted down and drew his arm away. For a moment there was only silence, and then he slid down off the coach onto the floor and stared into the fire. All his fury had died the second Blaise began to cry, and now he felt lost and embarrassed. And horribly cruel.

"I'm sorry." He said again, as though somehow that could change things. As though it could change everything.

"Me, too." Blaise murmured.

"You shouldn't have to apologize." Theodore said back quietly, voice barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't be such an arse."

"I shouldn't like you." Blaise's voice cracked.

"I don't mind." He blurted out, before he could stop himself. "I guess, I mean, it doesn't really matter…"

"Yeah," Blaise said and Theodore hit himself mentally, because he sounded close to losing it again.

There was another silence, full of a prickling awkwardness that he hated. It was driving a solid block between the two of them, and he felt that if he tried to touch Blaise, he would meet a glass wall.

"I'll…I'll be back…" Blaise stood up, using the corner of the sofa to support himself. "I just have to…"

"Yeah." Theodore replied, drawing his knees to his chest. He wondered if Blaise would actually return. He wasn't sure if he wanted him to.

Minutes ticked by. He looked at his watch and was startled to find that it was almost midnight. His perception of time had been completely thrown off, and for all he knew, a few dayscould have passed since dinner.

He relaxed against the furniture, resting his elbows on his knees and letting the heat from the flames wash over him. However, inside, his heart was beating frantically and his thoughts were rampaging. Everything was different. It would be a miracle if they could even stay friends after the whole mess was sorted out.

A churning sensation bubbled in his stomach, accompanying his thoughts. After it was all sorted out, when Blaise no longer fancied him… He issued a long sigh, nearly overlapping the quiet _click _as the door to their dormitory opened and then closed. So he was back.

Theodore didn't look up; he was concerned about his heart, because it had sped up to a slightly scary rate. He hoped he wasn't having a heart attack or something. His left arm felt okay, but did it always feel numb or tingly in those instances? Maybe he was some sort of wonder person, who never had the normal symptoms to things and would soon experience heart failure, and Blaise would stand over his dead body and realized he'd never fancied him anyway and walk away and –

Blaise sat down on his left, which silenced his inner panic. Theodore snuck a look at him, wondering why he was willing to be close to him now, as his earlier behavior indicated that he didn't. The vulnerable, hurt Blaise who'd been crying not too long ago was almost gone. There were streaks on his cheeks where his tears had fallen, and his eyes were red and bloodshot, but the way he held his head showed that something had changed in the past fifteen or so minutes.

Blaise caught him looking. He felt himself blush a deep red and looked back into the fireplace. What was he supposed to do? Tell the dark male he wasn't comfortable being that close? Blaise turned his body slightly and opened his mouth to say something, and then apparently chickened out. The fire was entirely too hot, and Theodore's entire body felt like he was on fire.

Something funny was going on, he could feel it. His magic was sizzling inside him, looking for a channel and his head was spinning. His mouth was dry; his stomach was making nervous jumps. What was happening to him?

"Theo," Blaise said, voice nearly breaking again. He couldn't help it – he turned his head.

The world stopped moving. He was completely frozen, almost in a trance, only one thing existed anymore, and that was Blaise, who was staring back, his eyes open and intense, an expression of something he hadn't recognized until that night on his face.

After a moment of hesitation and an expression of anxious indecision, he leaned in and closed the difference of space between their faces and his lips met Theodore's. He heard a dull thud – though that could have been his heart – and for a moment he felt quite faint.

It was perfect. It was like finally reaching the surface of the water that time he'd tried to see how long he could stay underwater for, and then had gotten his hair stuck to a pool drain and had to nearly rip it out to move. Theodore didn't know what he was doing. Judging by the tremble in Blaise's hand as it came up to cup the side of his face, neither did he. His eyes fluttered closed automatically and his hands slipped off his legs onto the ground.

Blaise must have noticed that he was responding because he turned onto his knees and nudged Theodore's legs open. He was entirely unbothered by that procession, and found himself encouraging the dark male by pulling him closer, until their bodies were pressed against one another. It was then that Blaise began to full on snog the life out of him.

Theodore surrendered control naturally, letting Blaise tilt his head back and opened his mouth. One of his hands slid around the other male's waist and the other threaded through his hair, pulling him closer. It was strange, but he felt like every other moment of his life he'd been dead, until now. The sensations waking up inside him were so vibrant and so new that he could hardly control himself.

The fire was definitely too hot now, a fact which Blaise must have realized as well because his hands tugged at Theodore's shirt and he was only too happy to help him get it off. Amid their struggle with his clothing, a strange alarm bell began to go off in his head. A short absence of his friend's lips gave him enough time to clear his mind and realize what it was that was happening.

They had to stop.

Now.

"Stop," he gasped, more out of breath than he had been from dashing around the castle. "Stop."

The abrupt cease in movement from Blaise gave him the general idea that his protests had been expected. But when their eyes met something strange possessed him, a kind of fire and desperation he'd never felt before and he leaned back in, connecting their lips once more.

It was different, though. Slower and softer and less fiery. It sent tingles down his spine and made him want to sigh with happiness. It was strange, kissing Blaise. It felt so comfortable, like sleeping at night in his bed or wearing his favourite pair of slacks.

And then he heard footsteps. Walls began to slam down like metal gates, leaving hollow echoes in his mind and a deep horror in his stomach. Oh no. If they walked in – if they saw the position they were in – they would think – they would _know _what they were doing.

Blaise seemed to realize this at the same moment, because he leapt off him and hurriedly positioned himself on the couch in an attempt to look casual. Theodore buried his head in his hands, trying to not to do something really weird, like burst into hysterical laughter or run screaming from the room.

Two girls emerged from the bend in the stairs, one of them complaining. She broke off, however, when they saw the two boys. "Oh, sorry."

It was obvious that they weren't acting as casual as they had hoped, because no one had ever apologized for entering the Common Room before. He was disappointed and afraid, because he'd thought that his casual I'm-still-up-because-I'm-nocturnal look had been effective enough to fool a couple of fourth years. "Let's just talk upstairs, Maddie. They're asleep anyways." The other girl said in an airy voice and they retreated, leaving an awkward silence.

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that when he opened them, he would be far, far away from Blaise. It was too complicated – he wasn't ready to have the conversation that they needed to have. There was no way in hell he was going to initiate it, either.

The empty pause stretched on and he tried not to cough awkwardly, an almost instinctive reaction that can only be developed through copious amounts of uncomfortable encounters. A strange, hot prickling started in his eyes and he got the feeling that he might start crying.

"Theo…" Blaise began slowly, resuming the frightened, uncharacteristically vulnerable person he'd been before. "Why did you kiss me back?"

_I don't know._

_Because I was curious, but it wasn't what I expected._

_I couldn't see it was you in the dark, I thought you were someone else._

_I'm not feeling so well, maybe I've got an incurable disease - you should go to the hospital. Also, I may forget about this all because of it._

Even before Blaise had finished the question, his brain began to work on making up answers; excuses to get out of it. _But I always do that. This isn't the time. This is real. _He realized with horror. He couldn't just run away from here and expect everything to be wonderful again tomorrow. It was just like what he'd realized earlier –except he actually understood.

"I wanted to." He finally said, staring down at his hands, fighting the urge to bury his head in them.

"Oh. Do you want to now?"

"I don't know." A part of his mind was demanding he tell the complete truth – an idea that didn't exactly appeal to him, but he did nonetheless.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So…So do you…do you…y'know…me…as well…?"

"I don't know." He repeated and then, because he felt that maybe if he hurried the conversation along it would be less painful. That maybe it wouldn't be him ruthlessly crushing the slight, weak hope in Blaise's voice. "I'm just…I'm not ready to…to think about what this is supposed to _mean_…"

"What?" Hopelessness edged into Blaise's voice and guilt twisted inside Theodore.

"I'm just…I'm just not ready."

"I see."

"Yeah…So…Where does this leave us?"

"I don't know." Blaise said and slowly a hard edge crept into his voice. It sounded false, though, as though by kissing him, Theodore had become immune to his defensiveness. "I'm just not ready to _think_ about it."

_Ouch. _

"I'll see you in the morning, Theodore."

"OK," his voice faltered, only for a moment, as Blaise stood up and rigidly walked upstairs.

With a small noise of distress he buried his head in his hands and cried.

_How many times can I break 'til I shatter?_


	3. The End

**Author's Note: Oodles of gratitude to bonapuella, for editing this monster of a story! I hope that if you didn't share the Bleo love before, you do now! :) We need more shippers for these guys!**

**I'm posting this story on my birthday as a sort of present to myself, not only because this part is my favourite of the three but also because I feel quite proud of this story, and it is very likely my last foray with this couple.**

**Once again, please copy and paste things you like into your review. :)**

**Disclaimer: See chapter one.**

Part Three: The End

It was actually a bit funny, Theodore mused one night, that ever since that encounter, it seemed like Blaise had finally gotten himself together. He acted normally, as though it hadn't happened, yet he avoided being alone with Theodore and any physical contact, even actions that would have been perfectly normal. He didn't know if this was a plan to make Theodore _want_ contact, but if it was, it was definitely working.

He was going crazy.

Even unintentionally his eyes would try to catch Blaise's; he made excuses to sit beside him; to lean over him; to smell him; he even arranged himself into slightly uncomfortable positions in case Blaise looked over so that he could seem perfectly at ease, and maybe even a bit enticing. Blaise never did, but there was a small part of Theodore that had a burning hope that he would.

His level of insanity increased when he realized how disappointed he got when Blaise didn't give him special attention. When he'd accidentally cut his hand open while chopping up ingredients in Potions Blaise had handed him a rag and left him to deal with it, barely even sparing him a glance. When Draco had been hit in the face with a plate from an angry fourth year during dinner he'd held paper towel to his forehead, leaned in close and asked if he was okay and checked up on him for the rest of the night. It was just a plate, and it was hardly bleeding. Theodore's hand had been _gushing _blood and Blaise treated it like a paper cut, even after Theodore was clearly feeling light headed and he started swaying back and forth.

Theodore sulked for quite awhile after that one and spent many nights thinking about the kiss they'd shared. Perhaps more than a confused mind should. Sometimes he would lay awake in bed, replaying it over and over and over again in his mind. Occasionally he would make up his own alternate ending, where they were blissfully happy together and they would sit under their favorite willow tree by the lake during afternoons, just talking. It was strange that after he'd confessed that he wasn't ready, he wanted it more than anything else.

No one seemed to realize that butterflies fluttered in his stomach every time he saw Blaise, looked at him or heard his voice. No one noticed his pitiful attempts to get his attention. No one noticed the nearly desperate expression on his face during dinner as he tried to come up with something interesting to talk about and failed. He'd even tried to learn the rules of Quidditch during the Slytherin/Ravenclaw game and tried to note all the impressive plays so he could participate in the inevitable conversation that would follow it at dinner, but in the end he had just gazed at Blaise as he flew.

After a few weeks, he began to become extremely aggravated with his ridiculous reactions to all things Blaise. He'd acted like a huge prat for two days after Blaise had smiled his beautiful, brilliant smile and his heart had leapt to massive proportions, only to sink to the ground when he realized it wasn't directed at him. He'd also savagely ripped his eight inch essay to shreds when Blaise complimented Draco's, and then regretted it when he realized it was due the next day. The worst part was he didn't care half as much about the essay as he did about why he'd ripped it up.

Those sort of occurrences were happening at an almost daily rate, and he began to seek something to distract him - something to take off the painful edge of being around Blaise so much. When the opportunity presented itself he seized it without thinking.

Miranda Frettle was a seventh year Slytherin and why she'd displayed any interest in him was a mystery. But when she'd shyly approached him and asked him to Hogsmeade, he'd agreed readily. It had been more of an instinctive reaction than anything, but then when she seemed quite serious about it he saw it as a real opportunity. When they'd come back to the school holding hands, he'd actually been smiling quite widely underneath his scarf. She started sitting beside him during meals and he valiantly carried her books for her during breaks, and pretty soon they were considered a couple. In fact, it was only two weeks until someone came up to him and asked if he and Miranda were girlfriend and boyfriend. She looked at him, smiled, and said yes. The boy looked at him and he nodded confirmation, grinning.

That night he woke up to a strange, muffled noise. After rolling over, he realized that it was crying. Blaise. Blaise was crying. It was a heart wrenching sound, almost like it was being ripped through unwilling lips, and he wanted to leap over the divide between their beds, something that seemed extremely small compared to the gaping hole in their friendship. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to comfort him, but was afraid if he got on Blaise's bed, he might not be able to bring himself to leave.

He heard another rustling and then the soft padding of feet across carpet. He already knew who it was, and the thought made him feel slightly sick. "Blaise?" The sound of Blaise's sobbing was momentarily overlapped by that of his bed's hangings being moved aside. "It's OK. Shh." Draco's voice seemed strangely loud in the room, yet Crabbe and Goyle's snores far exceeded it's volume.

The crying was momentarily louder and then muffled again. With a lurch of jealousy, Theodore realized it was probably being quieted by Draco's body. "What is it? What's wrong?" He heard the blond ask soothingly.

"I thought – I thought-" More attempts to stifle the sobbing. Theodore's hands clenched his sheets and he had to work hard to control his breathing in case they heard him. "He said he didn't want to consider it – I thought he – I thought he was going to – to sort it out and then – and then – but now-"

"I can hardly understand you." Draco commented softly, but said nothing else. Theodore felt like his heart was slowly turning to ash and crumbling onto the floor. If he'd had any idea that Blaise would react in such a way – so strongly and so hurt – he never would've said yes. If he could go back and change it he would. To be honest, he hadn't thought Blaise would continue to like him for so long after their encounter, though he might have hoped. His feelings for Blaise were a pile of hot coils that he couldn't unravel, not matter how much he tried.

"He told me he just – I thought he meant – he only needed more time." He heard a few sharp breaths that suggested his friend was trying to compose himself and his chest tightened. "I've been trying to – to act _normal_ for him."

"Oh, you mean Theodore?" Draco asked calmly, and Theodore's stomach plummeted. What if it wasn't about him at all? What if it was about someone else? If they hurt Blaise - he was going to pummel them into the _ground_.

"Everything is about him." Blaise replied in a voice choked with emotion. "God, I'm so stupid." More crying and Theodore had to resist sending his hangings flying off their hooks – because Draco had started comforting him again. "It'll be OK. You'll be OK."

The stupid sod.

"No I _won't_. I _won't_ be OK. I thought he meant he needed some time to sort himself out and then we'd- we'd- we'd become…you know…to-together." He began to cry in earnest again and Theodore's face twisted into a grimace of pain. "I'm so…I'm so…"

"You could never have known this would happen. I meant what I said that night; I'm positive he fancies you. Everything he's done except for this… It all adds up to him liking you." Draco's voice was perfectly calm and soothing, inflicted with concern and Theodore felt hot jealousy expand inside him. They were friends, of course, but at that moment he would have liked nothing more than to rip off his face.

"No, it doesn't. Not unless you look really hard into it." Blaise said miserably and his voice moved as he spoke, as if he were shifting on the bed. Theodore tilted his head, trying to see through the small sliver his hangings didn't cover. It didn't work. "I just…I just wish he fancied me back. It hurts. All the time. To see him…And now…"

"It'll work out."

"I can't believe he chose _her_. Miranda Frettle? _Frettle_? That stupid whore. She's not even _pretty_." He whispered and muttered something unintelligible, followed by: "I'm pretty sure that I basically _love_ him."

Theodore started and the blankets around his body made a loud shuffling noise. All movement in the other bed ceased suddenly and he rolled over, pulling the blankets over his head. He didn't want to hear anymore.

Blaise wasn't the only one who cried that night.

"Morning!" Miranda said brightly, leaning in to give Theodore a hug. He wrapped his arms around her waist in response and then released her quickly. Blaise and Draco had followed him out and he'd heard a large intake of breath from behind him. "Sleep well?"

"Not really," Theodore replied tiredly, rubbing his eyes. "You?"

"Alright," she said cheerily and leaned in closer, "I thought about you really _late_ last night, though."

"Oh, right." He replied, a bit disinterested. They'd walked into the corridor outside the common room, and with the added mass of students (all of her friends, Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise and Draco) it was impossible for anyone to get by the others. He felt increasingly guilty about the fact that Blaise was right behind him, but he hadn't thought about that before he'd taken Miranda's hand. She giggled and then wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning on his shoulder, and placing his hand on her lower back – her much, _much_ lower back.

He should have done something, like shrug her off, but he just kept walking, despite the low, almost gravelly mumbles of Draco's voice in what could only by a consoling tone.

When they got to the Great Hall Miranda sat down in the seat beside him that, up until that point, Blaise had occupied. Every single morning. There was a moment of silence as he looked up into his friend's eyes, which were not fixed on him but Miranda.

"You're in my seat." Blaise said calmly but with obvious effort, his jaw clenched tightly.

"No, I'm not!" She replied, giggling. "As Theo's girlfriend, this is _my_ rightful position."

"Don't call me Theo," he said weakly as Blaise snarled, "Don't call him Theo."

"Sorry, baby." She smiled at him and then glared at Blaise. "Get lost, OK? If he wanted you here, he would have told me to move."

Blaise's gaze was full of expectation as he turned to Theodore, but as the silence stretched on it changed slowly to incredulity. Miranda smiled smugly and leaned over delightedly, tugging on Theodore's tie and kissing him on the mouth. He concentrated fully on kissing her (bringing one hand up to cup the side of her face and the other to rest on her waist, which he thought was probably the right thing to do) that he almost didn't hear Blaise's cry of outrage or the sudden movement he made towards the two, before Draco hurriedly pulled him away and out of the hall.

When they finally separated –for some reason Miranda's skirt wasn't covering nearly as much as it had a few minutes ago and she was quite a bit closer – he couldn't see Blaise or Draco. This disturbed him quite a bit and he irritably detached Miranda from his arm.

Blaise was quite angry with him that day. And the next. And the next week. And the week after that. It grew unbearably horrible not to be talking to him at all, especially with Miranda's constant pestering on why he wasn't so eager to snog anymore, and why they couldn't start being more intimate with each other. She cornered him in an abandoned passageway on the way to class one Thursday after lunch and dragged him against the wall, which seemed to be her best solution for the issue.

"Miranda what're you _doing_?" He spluttered as she began to furiously unbutton his crisp white shirt. Her hands dragged the hem up his back and the cold, stone wall bit into his skin. "It's freezing in here!"

"Guess," she whispered huskily, dragging him back for another kiss. Her mouth worked against his own and his hands went to her shoulders – but in an attempt to get her _off_ him.

"We have to go to class!" He protested when she came back up for air and he yelped as her hands slid onto the bare skin of his stomach. "Miranda-"

"It's OK, just a quickie." She murmured hoarsely, ripping open the fourth and fifth button from the top of her blouse. He banged his head off the wall, glad that the torches cast dim light in the passage weren't close enough to touch him.

_Oh God, she really is a whore! _"Miranda!" He cried out in astonishment as her hands dipped lower, just as the tapestry leading into the passageway flipped sideways and in walked Blaise. His expressions twisted from the impassive front he kept on while he walked in the hallways to one of horrified disbelief and pain.

"Ugh," she muttered upon seeing him and, after hesitating long enough for Blaise to see what she was doing, withdrew her hands from Theo's skin. "What?"

Blaise's eyes darted back and forth between the two, as Draco followed him inside from the corridor, stepping around his friend. "What are you doing? We're going to be-" He broke off when he saw them.

There was a charged silence as Blaise stared at the two of them, Draco looked shocked and uncomfortable, Theodore stared at Blaise and Miranda just looked irritated. "Well?" She snapped, gesturing at his ruffled appearance. "Can't you see we were _doing _something?"

"Sorry." Blaise managed to choke out and then turned on his heel and strode out. Draco followed him quickly and then Miranda was back in his arms.

"God, what is _with_ him, anyway? It's like he loves you or something."

"Miranda-" He pushed her back, "I need to go talk to him."

"Why?" She asked, clearly upset. "Why can't you stay here with me?"

"Because I-I can't." He darted out of her arms and through the tapestry, not even realizing his shirt was still open and his hair was a horrible mess. As he struggled to do his trousers back up, he barely noticed Draco disappear into a bathroom and followed him, catching the door as it almost banged shut. When he pulled it open, after only a moment's hesitation, Blaise was bracing himself on the sink with one hand, the other over his face. Draco stood beside him, rubbing his back soothingly.

"Not now." Draco said shortly when he walked in, looking quite uncomfortable to find himself in the present situation. For a moment the only sound in the room was that of the slow dripping of the sink faucet.

Theodore ignored Draco and spoke anyway. "Blaise - Blaise, please listen to me for a moment."

"_Not_ now." The blond cut him off.

"It's OK." Blaise said and turned around. His eyes were red-rimmed, but other than that he could have simply been leaning over for no reason at all. "I'll meet you in class."

Draco looked at him for a moment and then nodded, before turning and leaving. Theodore didn't like that they'd seemed to have developed a way of talking without words. It bothered him. It was something just the two of them shared.

"Well? I haven't got all-"

"I didn't want to do it. She was throwing herself at me." The words tumbled from his mouth of their own accord. "I was trying to get her attention, when you walked in."

"Didn't _sound _like it. _Miranda_!" Blaise imitated him, except it sounded a lot more lusty than he was sure his cry of protest had been.

"Look, it wasn't what it looked like-"

"Why are you going out of your way to justify this? OK, why? I mean – _she's _your girlfriend." Blaise asked him, a desperate hopefulness taking over his voice. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off. "And would you fix your fucking shirt? It's hard to concentrate!"

He looked down, thoroughly surprised to see that he was baring half his body - which he was sure was not overly attractive – to the world. Or to Blaise. Either one, they were pretty much interchangeable. _Fuck that. _He thought fiercely. _No they're not. Don't think like that._

"Look, OK, I mean, she's-she's a girl!"

"I _fucking know_!" Blaise suddenly screamed and he jumped, fingers fumbling over the buttons. "I know she's a girl, alright! I know she's a _fucking_ girl."

"That's not what I meant!" He tried to explain, his hands shaking so much he couldn't finish doing up the shirt. "I meant-"

"Stop it, Theodore. OK, stop it. I get it. I get the message." Blaise closed his eyes, breathing shakily, and pressed the palm of his hand over his eyes. "I'm trying, OK? I'm trying to forget you."

His mouth went dry. His blood sped up and his heart began to beat incredibly fast. He couldn't control himself; he couldn't discourage himself fast enough from doing what he found instinctive. He yanked Blaise over to him by the tie and began to kiss him, his hands weaving into his hair while Blaise's lips began to move against his own. In a second the cold annoyance from his encounter with Miranda disappeared to be replaced by rapid, hungry flame.

For a few blissful seconds their bodies were working in harmony and he felt like he could fly – until Blaise's hands fisted in his robes and shoved him backwards. He hit the door awkwardly and banged his head, black spots appearing before his eyes.

"Stop using me!" Blaise shouted, raking a hand through his hair and backing up. "Just _stop_ it! You made your decision! You chose her, now - now just go! Go!"

Theodore ran. He hurriedly fixed his appearance outside the classroom door, and made sure he'd picked up his bag, before walking in. Blaise wasn't there yet, and Draco ushered him over.

"What happened?" Draco asked in an undertone after Professor Flitwick chastised Theodore on tardiness. In response he let his head fall into his hands and stayed like that for the rest of class. By the end he'd done some serious thinking, and vowed that he and Blaise _would_ go back to normal. He had a girlfriend, and Blaise was going to forget him.

It would all be fine. He was happy about it. Blaise would just stop fancying him and he and Miranda would have a wonderful relationship. In fact, he could almost feel something akin to love taking over him.

_Fuck it all. _He ended up thinking. _I don't fucking love her. God. I'll probably end up doing something stupid just to get fucking Blaise out of my fucking head. _He shook his head, trying and failing to clear his thoughts. _I don't_ need_ to get him out of my head. He's not even_ in_ my head._

The next day for some reason, even with some of the other boys clapping their hands on his back and congratulating him, Theodore couldn't feel happier about losing his virginity to Miranda. It might have been the fact that she hung off him for the rest of the day, but it also could have been the tight expression on Blaise's face when he heard the news and turned his head away.

The following weeks were boring and uneventful, except for the odd occasion when Miranda would stupidly hang around in their dormitory after being with Theodore the night before and irritate everyone by demanding they get privacy in the shower and waltzing around half naked. He'd once told her that they wouldn't ever have sex again if she didn't stop, but then he had a particularly bad row with Blaise about the length of the Charms essay they had to do and so he'd succumbed to her 'powers of seduction.'

By the time Christmas rolled around he was struggling to concentrate in class and to study each night, when all he wanted was to run screaming from Hogwarts and the complex relationships that had been formed there. He liked Miranda, he did. When he saw her he smiled alot and he was happy to be with her, and his stomach did soft butterflies when she was around or came into a room. But sometimes it wasn't enough.

Theodore and Blaise ended up screaming at each other in their compartment with Draco, Miranda and a few of her friends because Blaise said that the lock flipped one way, but Theodore thought it flipped the other way. In fact, Granger had even come over and ordered them to be quiet in her stupid Prefect voice while Potter and Weasley eyed the two with curiosity and annoyance.

When he left the station, he didn't look back. His grandparents greeted him, but he brushed them off and spent most of the holiday moping in his room. Until he received a letter, of course. From Miranda. His heart had soared because, for a moment, he'd thought it would be from Blaise.

_Hey babe,_

_Happy Christmas! I'm SO excited for New Years! I've got some super exciting things to talk about! (Did you know Milly Fearweather's got a tattoo? It's so gnarly, too! I told her that if I got a tattoo, it would be of your…well, you know.) _

_Anyways, I hope you enjoyed your present! (I'm looking forward to taking it off!)_

_Lots of love,_

_Miri_

He unwrapped a nice, collared shirt and stared at it. Rage and anger suddenly overflowed within him and he struggled to breathe, throwing the shirt to the floor and holding his head in his hands. _I can't do this. I can't be with her._

_Miranda, _he scrawled onto a spare bit of parchment, _I'm sorry, but I can't make New Years. To be honest, I'm not sure we're really working out. Sorry. Theodore._

He carefully looked it over, trying to see if it was 'too callous,' as he'd heard some girls talking about post breakup. It seemed fine to him. Without even a bit of hesitation he sent the owl back, the letter tied to its foot. And he didn't regret it, even when he spent the rest of the holidays alone. It wasn't much of a change.

"Hey," Theodore said to Draco as he slipped into a compartment, his bag bouncing off the door. Draco was lounging casually on the seat of the compartment that they usually occupied, his blonde hair shining brightly in the sun coming through the window. "Good holiday?"

"Alright, and yours?" Draco asked, looking up from the book he was reading.

"Good." He answered, throwing himself onto the seat with a casual ease he'd developed while dating Miranda. It was amazing what those two and a half months had done to him. He was pretty sure his confidence had skyrocketed, as had his snogging ability and performance in bed, something he was a bit proud of.

Draco watched him somewhat incredulously, as if he couldn't believe what a change had come over Theodore. "Mm. I heard about you and Miranda."

"Really?" He asked lazily, searching his bag for his robes so he could change immediately. "What did you hear?"

"That you two broke up." Draco regarded him silently for a moment. "Did you?"

"Yeah." He replied offhandedly, shrugging. He'd already been confronted by several people about the break up, and didn't think it really warranted the interest it had been receiving.

"Did she chuck you?"

"No," Theodore snorted, shaking his head."No. I did."

"Hm. Why?" Draco asked slowly, trying to hide the impatience in his voice.

"Because I just realized I couldn't do it." He said uncomfortably, not wanting to discuss it. Not with Draco, anyway. "But listen, don't spread it around, OK? And please don't tell Blaise."

Draco raised an eyebrow and he found himself explaining without a prompt. "I don't want him to…Y'know. To get his hopes up."

"Ah." Draco nodded once, annoyance flashing across his face, and then smiled when the door opened. "Hey."

"Hi." Blaise said somewhat breathlessly. "Good holiday?"

"Yeah." Draco replied, "Yours?"

"Brilliant. We went to America for a bit. Visited Washington – we went to Canada, too! Traveled through Ontario to Quebec and went up to Percé! It was- Oh. Hi Theodore." His voice suddenly became flat and his eyes went dull as his mouth settled into a hard line. "Good holiday?"

"Yeah." He croaked, suddenly feeling a bit too hot. The hands that had been fixing his tie stilled. "I take it yours was, too?"

"Yeah." Was the unenthusiastic, unhappy response. But as their eyes met, his seemed to flare and burn intensely, making Theo slightly faint.

"Cool." He said, voice wavering. He heard another snort from Draco and quickly averted his eyes, adjusting the shirt he'd just pulled on. "Did you get anything good?"

"I got something amazing." Blaise said in a suddenly suggestive voice and Theodore looked up. Draco raised his eyebrows at the male, who nodded back and his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"The same as before?" Draco asked and when Blaise nodded in confirmation, said, "that's interesting."

"I know." Blaise was grinning a way that, quite frankly, Theodore did not quite like.

"What happened?" Theodore asked with interest, more to distract himself from his most recent rush of feelings.

"Nothing." Blaise said in that same voice, grinning mischievously. And then, with a horrible pang of dread, he realized it.

_Blaise has a boyfriend. He found someone else._

His temperature sky rocketed and the walls of the cabin seemed to close in on him. It was suddenly very hard to breathe, and his vision bubbled around him, twisting the world as he saw it.

"Theodore?" Two people were standing over him, swaying back and forth in what was obviously a strange, ritualistic dance. "Theodore?"

"Please don't kill me." The words felt like chalk on his tongue and he struggled to get them out as his head cleared. It was evident that he'd been kidnapped by a cannibalistic tribe that was now performing the ceremony preceding the feast on his body. "I won't taste good."

"Theodore?" Someone asked through laughter and he sat up. It took one swift look around – enough to notice that he was lying on the bottom of their compartment – to realize what had happened. He'd _fainted_. What a_ girly_ thing to do.

"What happened?" He asked, despite knowing the answer, using the nearest seat to support himself as he stood.

"You started hyperventilating and then you passed out." The seat shifted under his hand and he realized with a not unpleasant jolt that the seat was Blaise's leg. Quite high up on his leg, actually. So high up that he would only have to slide his hand a few inches and-

"Oh." He said, quickly withdrawing his hand and seating himself somewhat awkwardly beside Blaise. "That's weird."

"Yeah." Draco said, eyeing him thoughtfully in a way he didn't much care for. "Are you feeling alright?"

"No, actually, I feel a bit sick." He said vaguely, staring out the window. "Maybe I'll try to sleep."

He couldn't, obviously, not when every bump in the track jostled him into Blaise and not when every word he heard just made him more and more sure Blaise had found someone else. His stomach turned uneasily at the thought of what Blaise had been hinting of, something that he sure involved sex. Blaise seemed quite smug, and he didn't like it in the slightest.

The only distraction he had the entire ride was when Miranda found him in his compartment. "Thanks for the owl," she snapped, lip quivering. "I really _appreciated _that."

"I thought it might have been the best way to end it." Theodore said, pleased with the fact that she didn't seem to be very angry about it. He'd seen girls get borderline hysterical and was lucky she wasn't acting like that. It made him even more affectionate and he hoped they could remain friends, because she was a pretty nice girl.

"You _stupid_ bastard," Miranda proceeded to burst into tears and he gaped, hands floundering at his side. "Here's your necklace back." She reached into her pocket and withdrew the gold chain and locket he'd got her for Christmas and threw it at him, managing to hit him square in the face.

"Don't cry Miranda! I'm sorry, I thought you said you were okay with it!" He cried out, rubbing his forehead. He reached out to her and tried to rub her shoulder, but she jerked herself away from him. "You told me you understood why I ended it!"

"You sent me a _letter_!" She snapped, her eyes narrowed with anger. "Could you _be _any more cold?"

Before he could throw his arms up in protest she slapped him hard across the face. "Thanks for _ruining_ the holidays! This is all because of _him_!" She turned her furious eyes upon Blaise, who looked quite surprised to be drawn into the confrontation. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she turned on her heel and stormed from the room, throwing her hands over her face.

Theodore gaped after her, unmoving. Draco attempted to hide his laughter by covering his mouth. "Tough break."

"I don't understand. She seemed fine before." Theodore said and resumed his attempts to ease the sting on his forehead. That locket had _hurt_.

Blaise, noticing this, moved closer to him and reached out to move Theodore's hand. He surveyed his forehead intently. "Does it hurt?"

"Er, kind of." Theodore refused to meet Draco's eyes and instead opted to stare at Blaise.

"There's a mark right there." Blaise touched his left temple, speaking softly, and traced it down to where her hand had left a red mark on his cheek.

"I'm sure I'll be okay." Theodore cleared his throat and shifted awkwardly in his seat. Blaise moved away, but for the rest of the ride a pleased smile flickered across his lips.

Time passed slowly. It seemed their roles had been reversed, perhaps by some sick twist of fate. Theodore wondered if Blaise had felt the way he did - wishing he didn't understand how he felt, but knowing that deep down, it was a part of him. His heart leaping when he saw Blaise was just as normal to him as it was to eat breakfast. Unconsciously inhaling his wonderful smell was just an instinctive reaction, like catching a ball aimed directly at your head. Though, truthfully, it was kind of like catching the ball but still feeling the sharp pain as it hit your face anyway. Every time the dark skinned male looked away it he felt like he'd been squished into the ground and beaten until he couldn't move. Those feelings were even more prominent when Blaise got long, thick letters and would smile secretively, clearly pleased with the contents.

A Hogsmeade visit had been fast approaching and he'd found out that Blaise was going with someone from out of Hogwarts. Draco had been the one to tell him, a somewhat sympathetic gleam in his otherwise emotionless eyes and Theodore had scanned the nearly empty common room, traveling over a few girls and coming to rest on one.

Ignoring Draco, he stood up and walked straight for her. She looked up from her essay, hearing his footsteps. "Oh, hullo." Brittany Harvey said in a somewhat quizzical manner. "Anything I can do for you?"

"Go to Hogsmeade this weekend with me." He demanded quickly, watching Blaise from the corner of his eye. His head jerked up and his eyes went wide, and action Theodore took pleasure in seeing.

"Oh…This is kind of unexpected, but sure." She smiled warmly and had she had dark skin, dark blue eyes and been of the male variety he might have enjoyed such a sight.

"Cool." He grinned at her and swept out of the Common Room, before hurrying to his wardrobe and trying to find something suitable to wear. It wasn't very important, but he was half hoping Blaise would come upstairs and see him making an attempt to look nice and be jealous.

Unfortunately, he never did come up that night, a fact which Theodore knew because he stayed up the whole time listening.

"Who's that?" Brittany asked in interest as they squeezed into the Three Broomsticks. Theodore followed her gaze to a secluded table of four in a dimly lit corner where Blaise and a man he didn't recognize were sitting. Blaise was leaning forward in his seat, laughing openly and the man he was with reached out and laid a hand on his arm. A pang of jealousy shot through Theodore and he grimaced.

"Who cares?" He sneered and she looked at him in surprise. "Er…So, what would you like to drink?"

"Oh, a butterbeer." She said, flushing slightly. Theodore had discovered over the course of their walk that she was sweet and pleasant, had dreams of one day being a Healer like her father and had always found him slightly compelling. "I can pay, though…"

"No, I've got it." He said, smiling warmly. He ordered their drinks and they looked around the crowded room for a seat.

"Oh, it looks like everywhere is full…" She said, clearly disappointed. "Oh, no, look! We can sit with Blaise. They've got room at their table."

His entire body and soul rebelled against the idea. "No!"

"Why not?" She asked, brow furrowed. It was pretty common knowledge that Theodore and Blaise were extremely close friends, and while they had been fighting publicly as of late, a lot of their conflict wasn't known to the whole House. "Are you two fighting?"

"No." He said, trying to be calm and act like his best friend and love interest was not on a date. "No, let's, er, go ask them."

He tried to ignore the desperate shouting a million little Theodores in his head were doing. They began to full on scream when Blaise noticed them walking over, whispered something to his companion and straightened up.

"Hi," Brittany said shyly, shifting her bottle from one hand to the other. "Er, do you mind if we sit with you?"

"No, of course not." The man said nicely and Theodore ground his teeth together. "We were just discussing the…er…the…"

"Sounds interesting." Brittany said brightly and shook out her long blonde hair. "Nice weather, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'm not too fond of the rain we've been getting, though."

"I love rain." She said enthusiastically, drinking a bit of her butterbeer. "As long as I can get dry, though. I hate staying wet for a long time!"

"Of course." Blaise said darkly and she looked at him in slight confusion. "Wouldn't want to stay wet for too long, would you? You could get sick, or die from pneumonia."

"Erm...yeah, I suppose." She said tentatively. There was a short silence and Theodore stared at Blaise. Their eyes met and he let his arm curl around Brittany's waist. She glanced briefly at him and then turned back to the table, biting her lip to keep from smiling. He started feeling quite bad at that point, because he _was_ using her, to be blatantly obvious. He _thought_ it was working, though. He could tell by the way Blaise's eyes closed off immediately, a sure indication that he was hiding an emotion too open.

A small silence lapped at the table and then the male Blaise was with began talking about writing. Theodore frowned. _A writer. _He was probably a better writer that Theodore was. The stupid sod. He probably let Blaise read everything he wrote.

"Are you done?" He stood up suddenly and his date looked up in surprise.

"Erm…" She looked at her nearly full bottle. "I'll drink it on the way."

He threw a few coins down – quite literally, they scattered all over the ground and he didn't bother looking for them, but simply set down a few more. As they turned to leave he wrapped his arm once more around her waist and resisted the urge to look back and see if Blaise was watching.

They walked up to the school with forced and awkward conversation. By the time they reached the door, Brittany had clearly had enough. She pulled herself away from him and turned, not buying the surprised expression on his face. "Theodore, please listen for a moment."

He stopped, shoving his hands in his pockets. He'd left his drink on the table, something he sorely regretted and had nothing to do but stare evenly back into her eyes. "Clearly there is something in this situation I am not understanding. It's obvious to me something's going on between you and Blaise-"

"Something?" He snorted, "And what's that?"

"Theodore, I'm not blind. You hardly looked away from each other, and everything you did was to goad the other!" She shook her head, "I'm in Slytherin for a reason, you know. I won't mention this to anyone because I can see that you two need to sort it out, and because I like you, Theodore."

He felt the slow gnawing of guilt claw at his chest and wished he'd chosen someone really evil to use. Like Pansy, or something. "There's nothing going on."

"I'm not asking for an explanation." She said, raising her hands. "But I do notice things, and so do other people."

"Is that a threat?" He demanded.

"No," she laughed softly, "That's a statement. I'm merely saying you've got to figure it out soon, before someone gets the wrong idea. Thank you for the nice day."

He glared at her retreating back. "Stupid wench." He muttered, but quietly enough that she wouldn't hear, before setting out after her.

"How was your _date_?" Draco asked, looking up from his book. He'd opted to forgo Hogsmeade that weekend, as his friends had both been on dates and he hadn't been feeling quite well. "I see you're alone. Not a promising sign."

"Awful." Theodore replied, pulling his scarf off his neck and then picking off the woolly fibers still remaining there. "We saw Blaise and his stupid date at the Three Broomsticks."

"His stupid date?" Draco asked, clearly amused. A smirk was playing out over his lips.

"Yeah." He said sulkily, throwing himself onto his bed. Not even the springy warmth could have improved his mood and he lay there, limbs spread out in the exact position they'd been in after he'd landed.

"I supposed you're in a jealous, sulky, childish mood, than?"

"Pretty much." He said, staring morosely at the ceiling.

"Did you say hello, at least?"

"We sat with them." He replied woefully. "Brittany doesn't know about Blaise and I. It was so awkward."

"How so?" Draco inquired politely, though Theodore was sure he was secretly enjoying it. The humor in his eyes wasn't hard to miss, nor the satisfied twist of his lips.

"I tried to make him jealous." He said with a sigh and Draco snorted. "I kept moving closer to her and putting my arm around her."

"Did it work?"

"I don't think so. His _date _was so bloody perfect. Likes to write; all smiley…I can smile." He said suddenly, as though proving his worth to the ceiling. "I'd like to rip that damn smile off his damn _face_."

"Violent urges. Another symptom of your newfound obsessive jealousy?" Draco asked offhandedly, turning a page in his book. Theodore didn't answer, so he continued, "You're sure Blaise didn't care?"

"Yeah." He murmured sullenly. "Stupid ponce."

"Who's a stupid ponce?" Blaise breezed into the room, an expression of bliss on his face.

"No one." He said darkly and Blaise frowned, pausing in the motion of unraveling his scarf.

"Alright?"

"No." He hissed, his emotions suddenly on high tension.

"Oh. I heard Brittany-"

"This isn't about Brittany!" He yelled, sitting up. He couldn't stand being in the same room as Blaise, not when he had just been with that stupid perfect imbecilic _writer_, and especially not when he looked so pleased. Merlin knew what had happened to make him look like that.

"Theo?"

"Fuck off. Just fuck off!" He screamed, slamming the door to the bathroom. In his fury he turned on all the showers accidentally and the water crashed to the floor, sending mists of steam at him and under the crack in the door. After frantically reigning in his magic he leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. He hated that Blaise had the power to send him into such fits of anger.

And that he obviously didn't care.

"I've wonderful news." Blaise said, grinning. It had been a month since Theodore had lost control in the washroom. He had mostly good days, where the two could joke around and get along, but the bad days of sulking and depression were taking a toll on him. Putting a face to Blaise's happiness had been worse than not knowing who it was – at least then he could only compare himself to imaginary traits.

"Men can get pregnant?" He guessed sarcastically. At least _then_ Blaise and his dumb boyfriend could have children. He imagined beautiful little dark skinned children with dark blue eyes and the stupid light brown hair his boyfriend had. His throat constricted painfully.

"Er…No." Blaise shot him a strange look. "I doubt that will ever happen."

"I doubt you don't wish." He muttered, eyes falling onto the papers he was holding in his hand.

Blaise merely frowned in confusion. "OK…Well, I just got a letter from Travis."

Travis was the name of Blaise's romantic interest. The _writer._ "Hmmph. How is he?"

"Great. That's what the news is about." Blaise said, eyes shining. "I think I should finally let him know."

Draco looked somewhat resigned. "As long as I can make an escape first."

"No, stay." Blaise said, clutching the papers in his hand tightly. "It's actually about you, Theo."

"What?" He snapped edgily, accidentally breaking his quill in half. He looked down at the pieces bitterly, feeling cheated and tossed them at Blaise's head. Unfortunately the male moved and Theodore didn't get the satisfaction of seeing ink blots on his stupid, perfect, handsome face.

"Look." Blaise handed him the papers and he took them reluctantly. His eyes read the first sentence and his blood ran cold. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

They were journal entries.

_His _journal entries.

_His fucking journal entries._

All the ones he'd written about Blaise – after they'd kissed, even. Right in front of him.Quickly skimming the pages, his entire body became red with rage and hurt and his eyes began to water from a combination of the two. He looked up as Blaise's expression went from excitement to confusion in two seconds. "Theo?"

"How could you?" He hissed, standing up quickly, wincing as his voice cracked with almost ever word. "Why would you show me these?"

"No, this is the good part. Travis is a representative from The Silver Broomstick, a publishing company extending into magazine production. They're looking for new writers, both for novels and for magazines. They've just started out…" He seemed to notice that Theodore still looked murderous and hurt beyond belief. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why are you telling me a bunch of _shit_ that doesn't explain why you went snooping through my stuff and made copies _my private stuff_." His voice was quiet from humiliation and anger.

"Theo, I found your writing book on the floor!" Blaise said, somewhat defensively.

"It wasn't my writing book." He snapped, knowing that he was so close to revealing what it really was but not having the ability to stop.

"What was it, then?" Blaise demanded, "Because I read what you wrote. It's really good. You have a really good grasp of the girl you characterized in them all, and the guy she loves."

He wanted to punch him. He wanted to rip the papers up and throw them in the fire, and then leap onto Blaise, tackle him to floor and beat him to a bloody pulp. He had no idea what he was doing. His emotions were in control, shoving his brain out his ears in clouds of hot steam.

"Those weren't writing exercises." He snarled, "Those were journal entries."

"What?" Blaise's mouth hung open and his eyes went wide with shock.

"They were journal entries that I wrote about _you_, you stupid prat!" Theodore yelled, attracting the attention of all those around him.

"But they - How – They're all-" Blaise spluttered and Theodore ripped them in half and stomped to the fireplace. _Letting your emotions run amok is quite satisfying. _He thought with hateful glee, throwing the pages into the fire with such force that the flames danced away from him for second.

"Fuck you, Zabini." He yelled, whirling around wildly. "Fuck you! How could you?"

Blaise's face was quite pale. He reached for a table to steady himself. _How could he? How _could _he? _He stormed away, hands shaking so much he had to concentrate very hard on turning the doorknob and collapsed on his bed, sorely wishing he'd thought of something more creative to escape to. He had no energy to do so.

He had, in a sense, given Blaise the snitch, as was the common phrase. The game was pretty much over, but there were still a few moments left, a few chances for redemption. Just because the game was over didn't mean either side had won.

Theodore knew how he felt - that much was obvious. But it couldn't just come down to that. Those were his _secrets_ and thoughts and feelings and his _personal_ writing. It wasn't supposed to be put in some stupid book, or magazine. It wasn't enough that he fancied Blaise so _so_ much. After a few moments of long silence only punctuated by a low shaking sound he realized he was crying. Theodore formed a first with his hand and punched his pillow with it, wishing it would help but discovering that it didn't.

_Everything _he'd written in that journal had been about Blaise. He hadn't even realized it himself. In fact, he couldn't even remember when his writing became journal like, probably because it was still formally written. He hadn't realized how much of his _life _he'd put in there. It wasn't until he thought about someone – specifically Blaise – reading it did he realize how much it terrified him.

He heard footsteps behind him and sprinted past their beds and into the bathroom, where he began to pace, shaking. He couldn't stay still, he couldn't think, he could hardly breathe. His mind was recycling too many thoughts at once and it was all he could do to stay standing.

He turned on the water to shower and, not bothering to remove his clothes, stepped in. The water was cold, but warmed up quickly because of the magic in Hogwarts. His hair became plastered to his face, his clothes hung heavily around his thin frame and he frantically washed his face a few times, trying to make the feeling of his tears disappear. It wasn't until he was washing his hair for the third time that he completely lost it and collapsed against the side of the shower, hands scrabbling for a handhold as he slid to the ground, shoulders heaving with his sobs.

_Something's wrong with me. I never cry. Just because I've been betrayed doesn't mean I should turn into an emotional wreck. _He was so caught up in the throws of complete desolation that he hardly realized Blaise had stepped into the shower, fully clothed as well, and slide down the wall beside him. He noticed him only from the blurred movement of black beside him as Blaise drew his legs to his chest.

His heart ached. His stomach was doing flip flops. His emotions were whirring throughout his body. He couldn't bear looking up, yet somehow he already was. Blaise's dark hair was soaked and clung to his head, brushed out of his blue, blue eyes. His dress shirt was pushed up to his elbows and outlined the delicious curve of his arm, just as the rest of his clothing did to his whole body. It made Theodore shiver, though his entire body was incredibly warm

"I had no idea those were…well, your…I didn't know what they were. I never would have…I just…What I mean," he took a deep breath, "I would never hurt you intentionally, Theo. I'm so, so sorry. I put your book on your bed, under your pillow so no one finds it. I hope…I know you might not forgive me, but I'm going to send an owl telling them to take it off the print right now."

"Don't. I'll take care of it." He said quietly, angrily.

"Okay…I'll leave Travis's information for you…"

"Tell me something." He said suddenly, needing to know, suddenly hopeful. "Were you and Travis ever dating? I mean, he's sexy and nice and a writer and all, but if you're…"

"No. I tried to make it seem like we were…I wanted to make you jealous. But we were never anything. I don't fancy him at all. I still…"

Theodore knew what he would say. He knew what words would come from Blaise's wonderfully pink lips if his own silence extended. But he turned, eyes like fire, and pushed his sodden hair from his eyes. "Get the fuck out of my shower."

It wasn't his shower. They both knew he wasn't even talking about the shower. They were talking about his life. '_Get the fuck out of my life.' _They both understood the true meaning behind his words. Blaise looked incredibly hurt, but in the next second sprang to his feet and balled up his fists.

"What is your problem? You _know_ how difficult it is to me to apologize! I haven't apologized since, well, since the last time you got pissed at me! I thought I was giving you a chance to write, I thought I was giving you a chance to do what you wanted! I know you don't want to go back to your grandparents, and I wanted to help you with that!" He turned away, running his fingers through his hair. "Look, I never wanted – You know what I want."

A small, electric pause and then Blaise swooped down in front of him and tugged their lips together, letting out a small grunt of satisfaction as they met. Theodore's eyes closed and he instinctively let Blaise take control, just like last time, but this time he was ready to respond the second they made contact. His hands moved desperately to Blaise's back, wanting to deepen the kiss in a way he'd never experience with Miranda, but the other male pulled away. "Seems like you want it too. I'm not waiting for you anymore, Theodore. I'm done with that. I'm done waiting for you to get yourself together."

He turned and left, leaving Theodore alone as steam swirled around him in a way very similar to his thoughts.

The next morning he was still in shock. Not about what had happened in the shower – what had happened after. What he'd written in the letter he'd sent to Travis; what he'd attached to go along with it, hands hesitant, almost snatching it back before it could fly away; feeling all his energy leave his body as the owl disappeared into the distance, leaving his own panic and shock in its wake; walking slowly back to his dormitory and falling asleep instantly, feeling at peace for the first time in awhile, knowing he'd done what he'd wanted to do.

Blaise had shot him looks of longing the entire next day, though his mind couldn't think about that fact – not when something else so important was about to unfold.

It took two days for Travis to reply. It arrived while he was sipping on his coffee, wishing the caffeine could give him more of a buzz. The letter was short and to the point, but Theodore's heart remained pounding for the next hour.

_Theodore,_

_I have to admit I was surprised by your letter, but it's great. We're going to run it in an issue next week as a special spread. Like you requested, we've got it all set up to send everyone in Hogwarts a copy…I'm not sure why you want that, instead of full compensation, but we can't complain. You're too good for that._

_Sincerely,_

_Travis_

Theodore's eyes skimmed over Travis's full name and position in the press, and he smiled delightedly. When he looked up, Blaise was staring at him, face contorted with jealousy. He realized with horror that it was probably very much the same smile Blaise had been doing that made him extremely jealous, but as he opened his mouth he saw Blaise's eyes catch the insignia on the parchment. It was well known to Theodore now; it was Travis's insignia. He'd seen it once and would always remember it as the picture that made him want to smash all the dishes in the Great Hall.

And a look of horrified comprehension and shame filled Blaise's eyes and his face seemed to lose some color. Theodore's mind raced to come up with an explanation for the reaction, but found nothing. All he knew was that part of him was screaming to deny whatever it was that was causing Blaise to look so heartbroken.

"Blaise-"

"Fine." Blaise said heavily, and Theodore accidentally dropped the letter onto his syrupy pancakes. "Fine. I didn't realize that's why you asked, but fine."

He hurried away, leaving Theodore to stare into his pumpkin juice. It took him ten minutes to come up with something to explain what had just happened. That night in the shower, he'd asked if Travis and Blaise were dating, and then described Travis as sexy and nice. And, as difficult as it was for him to admit, he'd sounded hopeful. Then, a few days later, he got a letter from Travis and had started to smile.

He probably thought – no, the more Theodore thought about it, the more he realized that Blaise thought he _knew _that Theodore was in love with Travis. It would be just like him to automatically come to that conclusion and then refuse to speak to Theodore ever again, a thought that made Theodore's stomach churn unpleasantly.

"I should talk to him." He said out loud.

"Probably." Draco said offhandedly. "But you should also wait. When you consider how your last confrontations have gone, maybe you should just wait it out this time."

Theodore sighed, "Maybe you're right."

"I usually am." Draco grinned smugly at him, but not even that could take Theodore's mind off what was going to happen.

"Any minute." Theodore mumbled under his breath, stabbing at the marmalade with a knife, trying not to look up into the Great Hall's roof and yell for the owls to hurry up. His heart was beating frantically and his mind was on the verge of realizing something – or so it felt, it could have just been anticipation and fear – because today was _the day_. The magazine's first edition was coming out, profiling his entries as an up and coming writer.

And then, just when he thought he would burst, the familiar sound of wings rustling caught his attention and the owls had arrived. There were many more than usual, something that didn't go unnoticed by the students, and then there was surprise as The Silver Broomstick copies were dropped in front of them. As soon as Theodore received his copy he tore off the plastic and stared at the front cover. _'Exclusive Excerpts From Theodore Nott: Upcoming Writer and Hogwarts Student.' _There was a picture of him on the cover, along with other screaming headlines, but his eyes were already scanning the index and he'd flipped open to the page before half the hall had even realized what they'd gotten.

Blaise had frozen when he saw the front cover, but as his eyes read the headline over and over again he seemed to thaw. He looked up and stared into Theodore's somewhat defiant eyes, studied him and then opened to the page Theodore was on.

His face flushed as he began to read words that, by now, were more familiar to Theodore than the back of his hand. '_The most wonderful, scary, amazing thing just happened to me. I can't explain it, just like I can hardly find the courage to write these words down, because doing this will make it all real; something I find even more frightening than what he makes me feel…'_

Confusion drew his eyebrows together as Blaise read, because he'd thought Theodore would have cancelled the printing. Several times he looked up to Theodore, as though realizing what it was he was reading. Of course, assuming that he hadn't read Theodore's entries since before he'd found out what they were, that would be true. The hall's noise had lessened considerably as a significant amount of people read his words, but Theodore couldn't care less about them. He only cared about the dark male across from him, reading what had, as cliché as it was, poured straight from his soul.

He counted the pages Blaise's dark hand turned until he could almost hear his inner shock at the last entry and reread what he'd written, imagining what Blaise would think when his own eyes absorbed the words.

_I expected the fear, but I never thought that what I dreaded the most would also make me feel so relieved. It seems ridiculous to think that a person can feel the most free when they're in a position of complete vulnerability, but it's true. There's no more hiding the truth from him and wishing he would figure it out himself, no more wishing he would take a chance for me and tell me how he feels, no more useless waiting and wanting and excruciating moments that lead nowhere. Now it's just the two of us, both of us completely as we are. _

_All I can do now is wait to see if he still feels like I do. If whenever I walk into a room he wants to talk to me, to be around me, to bask in my presence like I do when I see him. If, when he talks to me, it seems like everything else that's going on is alright, just because he's there. If the thought of us together makes him happy. _

_If he would be happy to have me, just as I am._

When at last the black male looked up they stared at each other in deep silence. Blaise's mouth opened and closed several times before he said, in a throaty voice, "Theo."

"I know." He said in the same voice, and suddenly he was swamped by exclamations.

"That was _so _good, Theodore!" Pansy exclaimed, "I feel like you really understand girls!"

"Yeah," someone he didn't recognize added, "It's weird, but so do I!"

"If girls really feel that way…You should write an advice book." A male said, looking thoughtful. "_I'd_ buy it. I had no idea that's how they felt."

"That's not how girls feel." He spoke softly, and yet everyone who wanted to heard him. "That's how love feels."

"Intense!"

"How'd you figure out that they all feel like that? Did you talk to people?"

"That was bloody amazing! You should write a book!"

People continued around him and he was forced to break his gaze from Blaise, but that's where his thoughts remained. His emotions were at their highest and most vulnerable. What if Blaise got distracted by all the attention Theodore was getting and then when he was free, he'd realize he wanted none of it?

"Come upstairs!" Exclaimed someone, "We should have a party in the Common Room for you!"

"We have school," he protested lamely.

"Fine, after! Let's go!" Despite the fact that that made absolutely no sense at all, he let himself be dragged up, shooting a desperate look at Blaise. Blaise looked away, biting his lip and then stood. Theodore's heart sank, but then he walked over and hugged him.

"Congratulations, mate." He pressed something into Theodore's hand, who felt his heart flutter and instinctively inhaled as Blaise's hair brushed his nose. "See you in class."

He watched the dark hair disappear into a sea of people, before he was dragged into the hall and escorted to class. As soon as he was sitting he pulled the small piece of paper out and unfolded it with trembling hands. _Lunch. The dormitory. We need to talk._

He knew what it meant. They would be together. They would be together now or never. He was flushed, his heart was thumping in his chest and he couldn't focus in his classes, to the horror of Professor Snape, who looked overly shocked as his cauldron exploded, because he'd been staring so passionately at Blaise that he'd dumped an entire jar of crushed beetles into it.

The three detentions he'd gotten were the least of his worries by lunchtime. He was fidgety and nervous, his palms constantly sweaty, and didn't know if he should go straight to the dormitory or if Blaise wanted him to wait. His long time friend caught his eye after what felt like hours. The same panicked excitement Theodore felt was reflected in Blaise's eyes, and it almost made the situation seem real, as though the past day had been a dream. "I don't feel well, I'm going back to the dorm."

Draco nodded absently and Theodore tried not to watch Blaise leave. A minute or so passed and he was struggling to come up with a reason to leave when Draco spoke. "Are you going to check on him, or should I?"

"I will." He said immediately, jumping to his feet. "I'll see you next class."

"Suuure." It sounded sarcastic. Before he could contemplate the reason for that, he was already half out the hall.

When Theodore got to the dungeons his mind was going haywire. He had to concentrate very hard on not bursting into a sprint, and his stomach was in a compete turmoil, jumping all over the place. He'd never been so excited and scared for something in his life, but there was a glowing, happy feeling deep in his stomach that expanded with every step he took. _Blaise is on the other side of this door._

He didn't hesitate, just pushed the door open. Blaise turned around, arms folded across his chest. They stared at each other and then – "You came."

"Of course." He answered, palms sweating. "Of course."

"This is it." Blaise said, stepping closer. "This is the last time we can do this. Now or never. We need to decide - it's too hard carrying on like this. I can't keep – keep on hopelessly fancying you and then stealing the odd snog here or there, it only ends in pai-"

"I like you." Theodore blurted out, "I like you a lot. Every day I wish I could go back to the beginning and change things. I like you like – like I think you like me. I like you like I want to kiss you every day, whenever I want to and hold your hand and be close to you because I can."

Blaise's face opened into a breathtaking smile and Theodore didn't care if men weren't suppose to be beautiful, because Blaise was. In three small strides his arms were around Blaise's waist and they were kissing again. It was somewhat desperate, something Theodore knew it didn't have to be because they had _so much_ time together, and he reveled in that fact.

"I want to be with you." Blaise breathed into his ear and Theodore inhaled the wonderful scent of his hair. "Finally."

"Finally." Theo murmured, kissing him languidly, feeling his body alight with warmth. Nothing had ever been so perfect as that moment.

"Now you're mine." Blaise whispered and Theodore wholeheartedly agreed.

"And then she told me that I'd done a bloody good job showing it, so I asked her why she thought it was a good idea to flirt with him in the first place, and do you know what she said?" Draco's eyes were wide with confusion and outrage. "She said that if _I_ didn't know _she_ wasn't going to tell me and stormed away! What is that?"

_The reason I swore off girls. _Theodore thought to himself, though of course that wasn't the reason. The real reason was sitting right beside him, holding his hand under the table and sending shivers running all over his pale skin. "Mm. Tough break."

"I don't understand why girls do this." Draco huffed, frowning. He looked down the table at Pansy, where she sat amid a group of girls who were all staring intently at him. He opened his mouth to speak and they dissolved into giggles and turned in on each other. "_What_ the hell?"

"Draco, she was probably trying to make you jealous." Blaise said it in a very aloof way, as if the idea was blasphemous and had never occurred to him. "You were supposed to get really angry and threaten to castrate him or something."

"This is rubbish." The blonde muttered under his breath, poking at the kidney pie on his plate. "Complete rubbish. Much more of this and I might swear off girls. No," he added, after reflecting on his words. "No, I don't think even then."

Someone a few feet down the table stood up and Theodore quickly tugged his hand from Blaise, reaching for the coffee to hide the jerk of his arm. They had to be careful about touching too much in public so that news about their relationship didn't get out and shower the school with gossip. It was harder than he had imagined, because what he found normal - swift caresses, lingering hugs, holding hands, smiles that lasted too long - was most certainly not normal. He'd never seen Weasley reach out and trail his fingers through Potter's hair, which was what Blaise has done to him last week during Transfiguration and they'd awkwardly laughed off.

"Why don't you just talk to her during History of Magic?" Theodore suggested. Pansy had started sharing a table with them after she and Draco had started dating.

"Oh, no." Draco shook his head and leaned forward, a somewhat frightening glint in his eyes. "No, Theodore, you can switch spots with me. I am not sitting beside her. I will _die_."

Theodore leaned away from his friend, against his will, and raised his eyebrows. "Alright, then. But if I am going to make this sacrifice, you owe us some alone time in the dorm tonight."

"Anything, so long as I don't get the details." His forehead wrinkled and all three of them cringed, remembering the moment he'd walked in on them while they were snogging quite heatedly. Draco hadn't quite gotten over it yet.

"Fine. We should get going," Blaise said, which was a hint for Draco to remember that he had something that needed to be done before class, so Theodore and Blaise could walk alone.

As Theodore stood their shoulders brushed and he cleared his throat, face flushing. _Christ, I'll give us away if I don't stop blushing all the time. _The endearing smile Blaise sent his way, all lopsided grin and flirty eyes, made his stomach turn over and his face went red again.

The past few weeks had passed with considerably more happiness than Theodore had experienced in awhile. The days were filled with everything that was Blaise – his soft lips, his silky hair, his intense, passionate blue eyes, his dark, chocolate skin and his constant presence, something that cast a warm, beautiful glow on everything he did. Even their small fights weren't as bad, because instead of wondering if he would be speaking to Blaise for the next week after their argument about whose quill it was that Draco found, he knew that in a few minutes they would be back to normal.

"Let's take the shortcut," Theodore suggested, moving towards the tapestry on the wall. They stepped into the dimly lit passage and they both seemed to realize at the same time that this was where Draco and Blaise had stumbled upon Theodore and Miranda in a somewhat heated embrace.

"I'm sure you feel a particular draw to this passage," Blaise said sourly and frowned at the coarse stone walls, as though they were responsible for what had happened.

"Blaise, you _know_ nothing happened." Theodore said and sighed, in the way one might after they've been through a subject too many times to count. "She just jumped on me."

"Hmph." Blaise's frown showed anything except reassurance. "So you're saying you don't think she's pretty?"

"Well, I guess sort of-What?" He hadn't had the sense to realize that 'no' was the correct answer and Blaise had let out a huff and moved on ahead. "Blaise, come on! What about all those boys _you_ met up with over breaks? You did a lot more than snog _them_-Blaise!"

Raising an eyebrow his boyfriend turned to look at him, arms crossed imperiously over his chest. "Yes?"

"You know that the only person I want to be with is you." Theodore said calmly, watching Blaise melt a bit in front of him. "Do you think that this would feel so good if we hadn't had to work for it? Miranda was part of the process, but I promise you that you are ten times more important to me than she ever was."

"Theo, you're making me blush." Fluttering his eyelashes Blaise fell into step beside him, considerably more cheerful. Just before they stepped out from behind the tapestry, Blaise turned to look at Theodore. "Hey, Theo?"

"Yeah?" He turned and received a quick kiss, before a laughing Blaise grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the passage. Together the two blended into the crowds of students walking the hallway, lost among the sea of black robes.

Life was good.

**Author's Note: Thank you tons for following this immensely frustrating and agonizing journey! It's been a pleasure to write. Please review!**


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